


May the Odds be Ever in Your Favor

by Mostly_Angst_Whoops



Series: Hunger Games AU [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: All the best cinnamon rolls are glazed in blood, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because Hunger Games, Blood, Death, Everyone Is Gay, F I G H T M E, Hunger Games AU, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, I'm Bad At Tagging, John Adams Defense Squad, John Adams sucks in this fic, Just you wait - Freeform, M/M, Maria Reynolds Defense Squad, Multi, Panic Attacks, So much angst, Suicide Attempt, a lot of it, but Alexander Hamilton was worse than John Adams in history, but Ham is super gay for everyone, but most of them do, but they're all kids, insults are compliments, it's bittersweet, it's hunger games, laf and ham are super gay for each other, sorry - Freeform, thank you, they don't all die, this was supposed to be jamilton, trigger warnings in the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-13 13:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 37
Words: 94,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mostly_Angst_Whoops/pseuds/Mostly_Angst_Whoops
Summary: Hunger Games AU! Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens are the tributes from Colony 12. Thomas Jefferson regrets his life decisions. Eliza is a cinnamon roll who's amazing with a bow and arrow. Lafayette is a literal sunshine child. John Adams is a dick. What happens when they're all put in an arena to fight to the death?A N G S T





	1. Chapter Titles Are True Historical Facts- Have Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, Chapter One. Here we go.

Right. Left. Right. Left.

Alexander focused on the soft crunch of his feet on the ground below him as he marched towards the square. The constant pain in his back was a reminder of the days past, when he had been outspoken. The bravery had been lashed out of him.

Around him were the bodies of similarly subdued children, walking up to the various gates surrounding the square. The gates were only installed for one week, the reaping. This week. Today.

Right. Left. Right. Left.

It seemed to only click in his brain now, that every kid here had a chance of being sent to their death. The gate was suddenly next to him, a solemn worker stared at him as he walked up.

"Name?" The voice was old, ragged. There wasn't a hint of pity in it.

"Alexander. Hamilton."

The man nodded, recording the information. Everyone already knew his name. It didn't matter too much. His back ached again, his shirt rubbing against it. The welts never healed. The man raised a hand, pointing him in the right direction. A twinge of annoyance passed through Alexander. How could everyone here just allow this to happen? He didn't say anything, instead following the other children to the plot of dirt where they all stood, anxious to know their fate. The dull colors surrounding him only seemed to worsen the image. Next year, he would show up in a neon green sweater, if only out of spite.

His eyes swept across the crowd, looking for his friend. The familiar mass of curls appeared to his side.

"Hello, John."

"Alex."

No other words were said. Everything had already been said. Laurens had a matching spattering of welts on his back. Instead, they looked at each other, searching for something. A tear escaped through John's eye, and Alexander was quick to wipe it away, revealing the freckles that were hidden underneath the layer of soot.

"It's going to be okay," Alexander whispered, wanting to protest his own words. Laurens tensed up for a second, but nodded, wrapping an arm around Alexander's neck and giving him a hug. Alexander reciprocated, holding him close, sighing into his shoulder. This happened every year. They were never picked. It would be alright.

A deafening screech went through the square, subduing the murmurs of noise that had been arising from the crowd. A man, dressed in what can only be described as an seamstress' rendition of a child's finger painting, stood at the front. Everyone snapped to attention, staring at the man.

(Or was it the shitty fashion sense? Alexander couldn't tell.)

"Hello, this is Samuel Seabury, and I'm here from the Capitol!" he exclaimed, holding his hands out to the crowd. He paused for a second, probably for applause. Alexander scoffed. A scowl worked it's way onto Seabury's face, and he picked up a piece of paper, beginning to read off of it. "We are gathered here today to honor a sacred tradition, the Hunger Games!"

Once again, there was a pause in his speaking. Nobody applauded. The microphone let out another dissonant screech.

"The Hunger Games were created from the generosity of the Capitol, for even after they were rebelled against, they were willing let us all live in harmony,” he continued, in an annoyingly high voice.

“Bullshit,” Alexander whispered, smirking at Laurens.

“Tell me about it,” he murmured back.

“But in return for their generosity, the Capitol takes two tributes every year to participate in the Hunger Games, a fight to the death between the tributes of every colony.”

“He’s basically just repeating himself at this point. Everyone knows this story,” Alexander said, not caring to whisper. Several people turned to look at him with judging glares. John jabbed him in the side. His back let out a jolt of pain, reminding him of the consequences of speaking.

He murmured a quiet apology, and the children glaring at turned back to Seabury, who seemed to be finished spouting bullshit. Instead, he was walking, each step slow, towards the glass bowl with everyone’s name in it. Alexander snaked his hand around John’s, who gripped it tightly. It was just another year. He wondered which of his friends he would be saying goodbye to this year.

Seabury reached in, pulling out a piece of paper, smiling to the audience. There seemed to be a collective intake of breath, as all the oxygen seemed to be sucked out of the air. Seabury took his sweet time opening the paper, smiling throughout the entire thing. Teasing.

Asshole.

Finally, he opened the paper, and Alexander could see the glimmer of recognition in Seabury's eyes. 

"John Laurens," he said, seeming to be satisfied with himself. Satisfied that he seemed to pick out the name of one of the biggest troublemakers in the colonies. Alexander gripped John's hand tightly, not moving. 

"No," he whispered. John struggled to break out of Alexander's grip, twisting his wrist away from Alexander.

"Let me go, Alexander."

"No.”

"Let me go, Hamilton," Laurens yelled, forcefully pulling his hand away from Alexander's. He began to make his way to the front, to the stage. Alexander followed him, not relenting.

"This isn't fair," he yelled.

Laurens didn't say a word.

"You guys all know it's not fair, and you let it happen," Alexander screamed, turning to the crowd. "What the hell is wrong with you people?"

"It's the same as every year, Alex," John said to him, the emotion not showing on his face.

"I don't care. You're the only friend I've got. How can you let them take you away like this?" he grabbed John's arm again, trying to pull him back. A couple of redcoats began to make their way towards him. He knew that this was being televised. He knew that everyone could see what he was doing. He didn't care. He didn't have a mother, father, or even a brother anymore. John was the only person who was willing to get anywhere near him after the incident, and he had scars for doing it. Alexander wasn't going to let him just die. 

A gloved hand latched onto Alexander's shoulder, pulling him back. He elbowed the redcoat, kicking and thrashing, not caring about the consequences. John pretended not to notice what was going on behind him. The redcoat pulled out a gun, trying to threaten Alexander, before-

"I volunteer," he yelled. "I volunteer as tribute."

A ripple of murmurs passed through the audience. John stopped the march up to the podium, turning around to face Alexander. The redcoats let go of him.

"What?" he asked, the worry evident in his voice. 

Alexander walked up to John, who was already on the steps of the platform.

"If you're going, there's no reason for me to stay either," he said softly. John was about to say something, but was cut off by Samuel Seabury.

"Well, how touching," he jeered. "I never thought there would be a volunteer from Colony 12."

"And I didn't think you could get any more annoying," Alexander shot back, walking onto the stage, looking out to everyone. Their stunned faces stared back. "What? No cheering? I just saved one of you."

"You're insane," John whispered, running onto the stage next to Alexander. "You know we aren't coming back, right?"

"Yes," Alexander said, an inexplicable manic grin on his face, facing the town again. "I'm leaving guys! You won't have to deal with me, the town troublemaker, anymore! Aren't you happy?" 

There was no sounds from those who were watching.

"Gee, tough crowd today."

"Alexander!" John whispered, his voice sharp. "You are going to die."

"I know," he said. "You are too. Everyone's going to die, anyway."

"You're not thinking straight."

"That's right, because I'm gayyyyyy," Alexander sang. "Well, bi, but you get the idea."

"Stop it," John said, looking scared. "What happened to you?"

"That's enough of that," Seabury said, stepping in front of Alexander and John. "Give a round of applause for our tributes."

There was scattered applause, mostly confused looks. Nobody from Colony 12 ever volunteers. They didn't have a win in at least twenty years. 

Seabury didn't seem to care about the lack of applause. There was a cruel glint in his eyes. He made a motion, cuing the familiar King's anthem to start playing. He looked to Hamilton and Laurens, gesturing for them to shake hands. They did, jaws set. A group of redcoats led them off of the stage, away from the stares. Alexander didn't miss the glare Laurens was giving him, and knew that he was going to get a mouthful as soon as they were alone.

As soon as the redcoats brought them into the Justice Building, that was exactly what happened.

"What the fuck, Hamilton?" Laurens yelled. "You realize that we're both not surviving this, right?"

"Yes, I know."

"Why would you do this?"

"I don't think I can survive without you anyway, John. I don't have anybody else. You forget that."

"I could've won! I could've come back!"

"We both know you weren't going to," Alexander said. "You were going to die, and I was going to watch it happening on live T.V., while an asshole in a fancy wig narrated it. Is that what you wanted?"

John was silent. 

"That's what I thought. Besides, I saved some other innocent kid. Nobody wants to deal with me anymore, I did them a favor," Alexander said, bitter.

John sighed, probably remembering what had happened. Alexander had always been outspoken, and the entire system the Castle used to run the colonies was bullshit. He was warned, several times, to stop. Stop publicly speaking against the system, writing pamphlets about revolution. He never did. 

Until they had brought him to the town square and whipped him, publically. Made an example out of him. John was whipped for trying to help him. Neither of them talked about it. Everyone knew about it. Everyone stayed away from Alexander.

John sighed, holding his arms out for Alexander, embracing him tightly. He took a deep breath in. “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

Alexander snorted.

“May the odds be ever in your favor.”


	2. Thomas Paine Was The First To Use The Phrase "United States Of America"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton and Laurens are On A Train™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed I say Whoops a lot.  
> Whoops™

Alexander focused his eyes on the rapidly passing scenery, marveling at the high speed train. The nausea hit him, and he looked away, blinking his eyes. He had never traveled this fast before, and if the situation wasn't what it was, he would be enjoying it. Pencil scratches were the only noise he was hearing, and the occasional hum from John. It was impossibly quiet, something he wasn't used to. There was always the sound of people yelling in the distance, the sound of birds chirping. Something. It was unsettling.

He looked over at John, who was doodling on a napkin. Alexander sighed. Napkins. It would've been nice to have those at home. The shear amount of napkins in the food car of the train made Alexander jealous. There were people that could afford to throw away napkins, while everyone at home used the same dirty towels for years. He pulled his eyes away from the napkins, trying to think of something for his idle mind to do. How could John be so calm right now?

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. He snapped his head towards the person entering. The man was old, his eyes sunken in.

"Who might you be?" Alexander asked. Seabury entered behind the man.

"This is your mentor," Seabury said, the Capitol accent sinking into each word. He grinned, teeth flashing mercilessly. "Do be kind, I imagine that he's going to be the only help you'll be getting."

"Fuck off, Seabury," Alexander replied, nonchalant.

Seabury gave him an exasperated look, followed by a smirk.

"I'm not going to be the one in that arena, Alexander. I suggest you watch your tone," he said, pivoting on his step and flouncing away.

Alexander raised his middle finger behind the man, earning a snort from John.

"I don't think you should do that at the Capitol. Or anywhere with a camera, really," the old man said, taking a seat across from Alexander. "I'm Thomas Paine. Your mentor. Pleased to be at your service," he said sarcastically.

Mentors were survivors of the Hunger Games that had won in previous years. They were charged with training the next tributes, and so on. Thomas Paine's age was just an indication of how rare it was to have a tribute from Colony 12. The youngest winner was always the mentor. And the youngest winner from Colony 12 looked like an ancient artifact. Alexander looked him in the eyes, which were glassy and graying. They still had a spark in them. He didn't seem too bad.

John held out his hand. "I'm John Laurens."

Paine took it, squeezing it and giving it a hard shake. John offered him a smile, and he reciprocated.

"The people will like you. Strong sense of duty," Paine said. He turned to Alexander, holding his hand out. "You're a weird one."

"Gee, thanks," Alexander said, withholding his hand. Paine let out a chuckle, withdrawing his hand.

"Try not to pull another middle finger out when you're in the Capitol. They'll eat you up for shit like that out there. I like you. Others may not."

"Why should what others think of me matter?"

"The entire Hunger Games is a huge television show. Someone's literally going to be narrating and reporting on it. Do you really think everything is as simple as 'put everyone in a cage and fight to the death'?" Paine asked, smiling. "Expected more from the person who wrote all those pamphlets denouncing the Capitol. Those were well done, by the way."

"You read them," Alexander said, raising an eyebrow.

"I loved them. I think many people did.”

Alexander gave Paine a smile, the first in hours. He held out his hand, offering a handshake. He was grateful as Paine took the hand. The wrinkled skin under him reminded Alexander of how old the man sitting in front of him was. How had he won the games? How many had he killed? A sick feeling entered Alexander’s stomach, and he withdrew the hand.

“Many did not,” John murmured, wincing.

“You guys are pretty strong, though. Plus, if people start researching you, they’re going to find out about the pamphlets, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Would help take down the Capitol, when you think about it. It gives you the needed publicity,” Paine said. “Plus, people are going to be very interested in you, Alexander. You went from yelling about the games being unfair to volunteering yourself. You have character.”

“Thanks?” Alexander said, voice lilting up at the end, asking a question.

“You should know that barely any of the games is actually decided by the skill of tributes inside the arena. Gamemakers. They control practically the entire thing. And what they do is completely based off of who supports you. If more people see you as their favorite character, the gamemakers are going to let you live longer. That’s a fact. If you’re too boring, they’re going to kill you.”

“Fun,” John said, sarcastically.

“Don’t think we’ll have to worry about that, though,” Paine said, grinning. “You’re interesting enough. Are you two dating?”

Alexander scrunched up his face. They had dated for a while, but it felt really weird and they mutually friendzoned each other by the end of the week. John let out a chuckle.

“Nope,” he said.

“Well, if you guys started dating, you might get more people on your side,” Paine said, shrugging. “Just a suggestion.”

“This is the weirdest conversation I have ever had.”

Alexander chuckled. There was barely any tension in the car, which was weird, considering the circumstances. He calmed down a little, letting his shoulders down and slouching in his seat a little bit. They were almost at the Capitol, where they would be facing the crowds that actually mattered. The people who really decided who lives and who dies.

He would be competing against a bunch of other children his age. As Thomas Paine rattled on, John nodding along, Alexander let his mind wander to the other tributes. He hadn’t seen most of them yet. The reapings were always televised.

Alexander tried to avoid them as much as possible. He had only seen one of them so far, because he was visiting John's house. John had always kept up with the games, giving Alexander the important updates. Alexander hated almost everything having to do with the games, but everyone was required to watch them. John gave him the necessary information, so that he'd be able to pretend to know what was going on with the games if someone were to ask him.

His mind floated back to Colony 8, the reaping he had watched. Someone in outrageously horrid Capitol attire reaching into the large glass bowl and pulling out the name of a seventeen year-old boy. He tried not to look nervous as he was led to the stage, looking at the sea of silent, unforgiving faces in front of him. Alexander winced. That boy was probably going to die.

The other tribute from the district had volunteered. He clearly didn't want to, and tears were streaming down his face as he was led to stand next to the first boy. He was taller, hair bunched into a ponytail. He was taller than the other boy, and had an impossibly long name. What had it been? Marie Joseph something or the other Lafayette. Alexander named him Laf in his head so that he wouldn't have to worry about the long name. Why had he volunteered? It didn't make sense.

Why should he even be bothering with names? They were probably all going to die. That's what happened every year. One of the careers would probably win, like they did every year. The careers were the tributes from Colony 1 and 2. They had been trained from a young age, specifically for the Hunger Games, and volunteered at the reaping. They almost always had the Capitol's favor. They were literally made to win. Alexander, John, and the boys from Colony 8 had no chance. They were all heading to their death.

Alexander brought himself back to the conversation with John and Paine. His thoughts had just become more and more depressing.

"So, George Washington and John Adams, what about them?" he asked Paine.

"Well, they're certainly going to be people to look out for. If you gain the attention needed for people to start sponsoring you, they're going to hunt you down first. You know, lower the playing field. It's a game of strategy as much as it's a game of killing. George Washington and John Adams are known within Colony 1 for their skills with spears."

"What about the boys from Colony 8? Lafayette, I think?" Alexander asked. "Why did he volunteer? It didn't seem like he wanted to at all."

"I don't know. He'd be easy to kill, honestly. Forgettable. I don't think he's going to survive very long," Paine remarked. "You shouldn't focus on the outliers too much. Try to learn more about the people who actually pose a threat."

Alexander felt a pang of- what was it? Anger? Guilt? It seemed cruel to completely toss aside Laf like that. He sighed to himself.

"Why does this even matter? We're going to die, anyway. Washington or Adams or some other career is obviously going to win. It's going to be the same as always. I don't want to kill anyone. I don't even really care about getting through the games myself," Alexander said, looking at John and Paine's faces. Both of them had an indiscernible expression on their face.

Paine spoke first.

"I think you have more of a chance to survive than any year. You made a good-"

"What if I don't want to survive?" Alexander asked. "What's the point, anyway?"

John looked to Paine. "Could I have a second with Alexander?"

Paine nodded, understanding what John meant and leaving the car, leaving Alexander and John alone. John turned to Alexander, his lips pressed into a line.

“I don’t get it. Why are you even trying, John? We’re going to get slaughtered out there. We’re exactly what Paine called Laf. Easy to kill. Forgettable. There’s no reason to even try. Why prolong the suffering? Better to just end ourselves at the beginning, don’t you think? Not give them the satisfaction at all?”

“Alexander, are you okay?”

“Funny you should ask that. We’re literally on a train heading to our deaths. I don’t think either of us are okay,” Alexander said.

“Listen to me. If one of us survives, imagine the message it would give. First of all, it would show that the outer districts can win. Second of all, more people would learn about the pamphlets. We could actually change things in the government, have an influence. Wouldn’t you want that?” John asked.

“Paine won the games. Where’s his influence?” Alexander asked bitterly. “I had never even heard of him before today. Besides, every other tribute he trained has died. One of us isn’t going to win. That’s just the truth.”

“You heard him. He thinks that-”

“What? We’re special?” Alexander asked. “We have a chance? He’s just giving us false hope. Nothing’s ever going to change. Every kid out there is going to be stuck doing this forever.”

“Alexander.”

“John, I’m not going to survive. You realize that, right? The moment I step outside, people are going to hate me. That’s what always happens. I’m not good at getting people to like me.”

“Alexander.”

“And only one of us is getting out of that arena. If by some miracle, we’re the last two in there, one of us is going to have to kill the other. It’s inevitable that one of us is going to die.”

“Alexander.”

“And if that one of us is you,” Alexander said, choking up. Tears were threatening to fall from his eyes. “If you die, I have no reason to go on, anyway.”

“Alexander, isn’t this what you wanted? A chance to change things?” John asked, wrapping an arm around Alexander’s shoulders. “You didn’t write those pamphlets for no reason. You’re now getting the publicity needed to change things. You could make the world a better place.”

Alexander nodded, sighing. John had clearly thought this out. Suddenly, his fixation on the games made sense. The reason John knew so much about the publicity, the reason John didn’t seem upset at all when he was picked. No.

“You were planning to volunteer, weren’t you?” Alexander asked softly, pushing John away. “To get the publicity, to do everything you just said?”

“Yes,” John said, looking away.

Alexander did the same, staring at the floor. He was probably supposed to stay back in Colony 12, take care of everything when John was gone. That was John’s plan. Die and force all the work onto Alexander.

“You should’ve told me,” Alexander murmured.

“You wouldn’t have let it happen. You didn’t let it happen, anyway. I didn’t think I would get picked. I was planning to volunteer for the second spot, which you did. I’m sorry, I didn’t think about-”

“How much you meant to me?” Alexander asked. “That’s cruel.”

John nodded, remaining silent. His plan wouldn’t work unless one of them survived. Alexander was supposed to survive, back home. He sighed deeply.

The train was silent again, both of them refusing to look the other in the eye. Alexander looked through the window, watching as they broke through a layer of trees into the Capitol. The train slowed, stopping in front of a crowd of people, all dressed up similarly to Seabury. A sea of bright colors, intense makeup, neon wigs.

Alexander hated it.

Here they were, staring at a bunch of people who had everything since they were born. Who loved to watch the Hunger Games, relished in it. People who didn’t even know that in the outer colonies, everyone was sick and dying. It made Alexander want to throw up. He scowled through the window at the crowds, turning away, only to see John waving.

John gave him a patient smile. So that’s how it was going to be. They needed the public’s support if they were going to get through this. If they were going to change anything. It needed to be changed. The colonies can’t keep sending their children off to die. It was barbaric. Alexander let out a deep sigh. Might as well entertain everyone for now. He wiped off his tears, pulling his lips into a huge smile and waving to the crowd of people. He heard John let out a relieved sigh next to him.

He wasn’t going to win, but at the very least, he would try.

For John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> Comments are the reason I live! :))))


	3. Lafayette Is Awesome, Except for the time he Cheated On His Wife (twice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me if you find grammar mistakes.

Alexander was in a metal room, a bright light shining on top of him as he rested against the cool hard desk beneath him. They- whoever they were- had just finished screening him for diseases, which were pretty common in Colony 12. He laughed to himself. Can't have the tributes killing others before the games, after all.

The loose gown was three sizes too large for him, hanging off of his body in the most unattractive way possible. It seemed like another attempt to dehumanize him, and there was no way of knowing is every other tribute was going through the same thing. He was alone. It was silent.

They had taken John away for the same screening, about two hours ago. The check-up lasted about an hour. Which meant that Alexander had been lying in place, staring at the ceiling for an entire hour. What a waste of time. He sat up, eyes darting around the room, which was extraordinarily plain. Plain, except for the camera in the corner, recording his every move. He gave it a smile, accompanied by the middle finger. 

He kicked his legs, trying to occupy his waiting mind. A sterile smell wafted into his nose. Chemical. Nothing like back home. Nothing in this room reminded him of back home. The silver, unforgiving walls were all clean, not a spot of dirt on them. The bright light shining on him was a stark contrast to the dim lighting back home. The chemical smell was nothing like the constant coal that would be stuck in his nose back at home. He coughed, wanting to get the smell out of his nostrils.

What was he even waiting for? He was already clean. If they were going to dress him up in Capitol attire, he would riot. He was at the Capitol. What was the next step? He couldn't remember. John would know. John seemed to know everything that was going on. He sighed into the small room, feeling lonelier by the second.

His brooding was finally stopped when the metal door opened, and a woman walked in. She had intense eyes, looking at Alexander with a sly smile. While there was no doubt that she was from the Capitol, she looked distinctly different. Instead of the colorful wigs that characterized almost everyone else, her hair was in curls cascading down the sides of her face. Instead of the flamboyant clothes, she wore all black. The only makeup Alexander could see was gold eyeshadow on her eyelids. She held out a hand, and Alexander hesitated before grabbing it. She gave it a firm shake, squeezing the hand tighter than necessary. Alexander winced.

"Mercy Otis Warren. I'm your stylist. It's an honor to meet you."

Stylist? Why was he getting a- oh, right. The opening parade, where the tributes were shown off to the world. The first chance, apart from the reaping, for the people to see the kids who would be attempting to kill each other in a few days. Fun. Alexander looked back at Mercy, who was giving him an expectant smile.

"So, you're here to make me look pretty?" Alexander asked.

One corner of Mercy's lip tilted up. "I'm here to help you make an impression."

"Huh," Alexander said, not really caring much.

"You know, for someone who wrote all those pamphlets, you're pretty docile in real life," Mercy said, giving Alexander a hard stare. 

"Wait, you've read the pamphlets?" Alexander asked, interest suddenly piqued. "Didn't they burn them?"

"Everyone's going to read the pamphlets, if we do this right," she said, lowering her voice. "I suggest you quiet down. There's a camera in this room."

Alexander nodded, understanding. "How many people have read them?" he whispered.

"Contrary to what you might believe, there are tons of people who want change. There are very few who are brave enough to face the price of rebellion," Mercy said. "Now that you are in the games, we can actually attract more attention to the pamphlets, get more people to read it. See how a government should be run." She gave a smile to Alexander, before continuing. "I was thinking that you should continue to write the pamphlets. You have a few weeks before the games. How many can you get out?"

"I write a lot, I'd be able to do a lot," he whispered back.

"Well, you don't have to be worrying about it. You won't be alone. I'll help with writing more of them. We can publish them anonymously," Mercy said. "That, accompanied with the publicity you'd be getting would be enough to cause a rebellion, don't you think?" she said, smiling.

"I'm going to die. Why are you so happy?"

Mercy picked up a pair of scissors, trimming the tips of Alexander's shoulder-length hair off. "To be fair, you volunteered to die."

Alexander struggled to figure out a good response, going back to grumbling about the government. Mercy smiled.

"Okay, so, we need you to be in something that makes an impression," she said, combing through Alexander's hair, looking him up and down. 

"Aren't I supposed to be in something that represents my district? We're coal miners," Alexander said, shrugging. 

Mercy gave him another sly smile. "Are you afraid of fire, Alexander?"

Alexander shook his head, a little worried by the look on her face. 

Two hours later, he was dressed in a tight-fitting maroon suit with a black tie. The edges of the suit had black splatters traveling up the sides, reminiscent of ink stains. He wore a large cape, black with tiny white writing stamping against it in cursive. He tried to make out what it said, failing miserably two words in. He looked up to Mercy, inquisitive.

"That's the anthem. Don't worry too much about it, it’s a political statement between the two of us more than anything else. Nobody can read it anyway, it's my handwriting," she explained, before a mischievous look passed her face. "The fun part is the fire. It's all fake, but it's going to look real. They burn your pamphlets? You burn their anthem."

"You're setting my cape on fire?" Alexander asked, backing away a little. He didn't want to admit it, but he looked amazing in the suit. He didn’t want to die, though.

"It would make an impression, don't you think?" Mercy said. "You trust me, right?"

“We just met two hours ago.”

“Ah, but we’re co-conspirators, right?” she asked, winking.

“You’re weird.”

“I get that a lot.”

She grabbed Alexander’s sleeve, pulling him outside to a chariot. It was gold-plated, with fake golden flames licking up the sides. It was more luxurious than anything Alexander had ever seen before. His breath hitched, looking at it. He walked closer, seeing tiny words engraved across the entire thing. It was beautiful.

“How-”

“I have a lot of free time,” Mercy said, pushing Alexander onto the chariot. “I’ll get John, you wait here.”

Alexander took the time to look at some of the other tributes. John probably knew all of them by name. He looked for a familiar face, immediately locking in on Laf. He was wearing a cape made of different fabrics sewed together in an intricate pattern. The cape was on top of a fitted short sleeved shirt and shorts. His arms and legs were covered in golden fishnets, and he had gold eyeshadow that glittered even from this far away. It was breathtaking. He was going to step down and go introduce himself, volunteer to volunteer, but was stopped by someone snarling next to him.

He turned his body, facing a boy who towered over him. There wasn’t a hint of friendliness on the boy’s face. Alexander took a step back instinctively, which only seemed to humor the boy in front of him.

“What are you supposed to be?” he asked. “The Declaration of Independence?”

Alexander racked his brain for something to say, but for once was at a loss for words. What was the Declaration of Independence? The boy stared at him with an intense glare. He studied the outfit of the boy. He was completely covered in gold, a gladiator-style outfit outlining his chest. There was a golden helmet on top of his mass of black curls. The costume didn’t cover his arms or past his knees, and Alexander could see every single muscle on the boy’s body. He could probably rip Alexander to shreds with his bare hands. 

“Oh, right. You probably don’t know about the Declaration of Independence. Should’ve known that, considering you’re from an outer colony,” he continued taunting. “You don’t stand a chance, just saying.”

Alexander took another look at the boy’s outfit, trying to remember where he had seen it before. Right, one of the career colonies had something similar to the gladiator outfits every year. Hamilton thought that they looked ridiculous. The boy in front of him wasn’t Washington or Adams, we had seen pictures of both of them on the train, which meant he wasn’t from Colony 1. The other career colony was Colony 2. What was Colony 2 responsible for? Right, masonry. Basically, moving rocks. He could work with that.

“Didn’t know you had to learn about the Declaration of Independence just to move rocks your entire life,” Alexander shot back, sighing in relief as his brain finally figured out a way to work.

“I have been training since a young age for these games and I’m not going to-”

“Oh, so this is how the careers win. They taunt their opponents with petty insults. I see how it is,” Hamilton said sarcastically, examining his fingernails instead of looking up at the boy. He could feel the anger radiating off the boy in front of him and stifled a laugh.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you, you little twerp,” he grumbled, storming off. 

“Ta-ta!” Hamilton sang behind him.

“Alexander, it’s probably best not to get enemies already. Especially with the careers,” John said, walking into the chariot next to Alexander. He was also in a suit, except his was black with red ink splatters travelling up his sleeves. Instead of having a cape similar to Alexander, he was holding a torch in his hand.

“He was being a dick. Completely his fault,” Alexander said. “Besides, you should’ve seen his face, it was hilarious. He looked so offended.”

“Once again, I reiterate. He’s a career, a career who got into the Hunger Games a year earlier than most careers. That means he beat out every other seventeen-year-old who had been in the academy for that chance to volunteer. Don’t make enemies with Thomas Jefferson.”

“God, even his name sounds like a table with feathers taped to it,” Alexander said, giggling, nudging John in the side with his elbow.

John gave Alexander an exasperated look. His next comment was cut off by the Capitol anthem blaring through the speakers, signalling the beginning of the parade. Colony 1 went out first, the way they always did. The cheers were deafening. Colony 1 always had a lot of fans. They were responsible for providing the luxury items for the Capitol. Obviously the entitled, privileged assholes would love them.

Thomas and his partner were next, Colony 2 disappearing through the gates into the crowds. It was an important night, the first time that sponsors would be seeing the tributes in public. Colony 10 rolls out. It’s almost our turn. John reached his hand over to Alexander, lacing their fingers together. Alexander relaxed. It was going to be okay.

Colony 11’s chariot began to roll out.

John pressed a button on his torch, and both his torch and Alexander’s cape flared up at the same moment. Alexander jumped a little, before forcing himself to calm down. He took a deep breath as the chariot began to roll out, ready for the sea of colorful faces to judge.

The sound hurt Alexander’s ears. He heard people screaming his name, his and John’s. Their faces showed up on one of the billboards, a live feed from their chariot. He looked over at John for reassurance, who was giving the crowd the biggest smiles possible, waving the torch royally. Alexander copied him, forcing his lips into a huge smile, waving at the crowds. Someone threw a rose and he caught it, blowing the crowds a kiss.

The cheers reached a new level. The cape burned out completely just as the chariots began to circle up under King George’s balcony. He stood up, crown bobbing ever so slightly on his head. He walked to the front, looking at the sea of people with a practiced smile. It made Alexander want to vomit.

He zoned out, not particularly interested in whatever lies King George would be spouting. Blah blah- generosity this- and blah blah- bravery that. Instead, Alexander focused his eyes on the screen, watching what was being broadcasted to the world. What people back home would see. 

While the king is making his remarks, the camera was focused on Alexander and John most of the time. He straightened his back, looking to King George following what all the other tributes were doing. John squeezed his hand reassuringly. It wasn’t long before King George stepped down, letting the chariots go with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Alexander sighed as his chariot was finally taken out of the spotlight. Mercy walked over to them, along with Thomas Paine. 

“Good job, boys,” Paine said, offering them both smiles.

Mercy gave both Alexander and John painfully enthusiastic high fives, grinning. “Every single person’s eyes were on you. You’re going to be the only thing they talk about. It's amazing.”

The dirty looks from the people around them showed that even they noticed. John glared back at them, until most of them looked away. 

“Let’s go. We have important matters to discuss,” Mercy said, leading them away from the other tributes. Alexander caught Thomas’ eye on the way out, and stuck his tongue out childishly. The pissed off look he earned from Thomas was worth it, and he skipped after Mercy as if nothing happened. 

Mercy offered them dinner after the parade. John was quick to dig in, but Alexander had a sick feeling in his stomach the moment he saw the food. He politely declined, going navigating through the floor until he found an empty bedroom. He immediately stripped out of his costume, throwing it into a pile on a chair. There was already a nightgown set for him on the bed. He sighed, remembering the fact that servants were a normal thing in the Capitol.

He pulled on the nightgown, which was again, too big for him. It hung from the wrong places, making him shrink into it. Who did they expect to come? These were kids that were being sent to their deaths. The nightgowns shouldn’t be giant-sized. Nobody had even finished their growth spurt. Alexander let out a sigh, walked towards the window, looking out into the city below.

Each colony had their own floor for their tributes and mentors. The bottom floor was the training center, where they would all be forced to go tomorrow morning to train. One of the only perks of being from Colony 12 was having the penthouse in the training building. Alexander could see the entire Capitol. He sat at the giant floor-to-ceiling window, sighing to himself. It was almost as if everything in the building was made to make him feel small. He turned away. Who else knew about Mercy and the pamphlets?

If the pamphlets were actually popular enough to warrant attention from the citizens of the Capitol, could it mean that more people wanted revolution than he thought?

Alexander sighed, turning away from the window. Better to get some rest for now. He walked to the bed, collapsing in the soft sheets, another sigh escaping his lips. 

It was going to be a long two weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This updates every other day, so check back on odd numbered days if you're reading. (I usually update at midnight or really early in the morning.)
> 
> Comments are my driving force :)


	4. Lafayette Was Featured in Porn Images with Marie Antoinette Several Times In Real Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laf is amazing  
> Featuring way too much dialogue. I apologize.  
> TW for a panic attack- I'll post a summary of the chapter for anyone who needs it at the bottom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my good friend, Ellie. Hope you're feeling better!

Alexander stood at the back of the training room, unsure of what to do. The careers seemed to have formed an unspoken alliance, all talking to each other like old friends. They were loud, noisy. Almost as if they wanted everyone to look over at them, to see their skills. Intimidation. It seemed to be working. Most of the other tributes floated around alone like islands, never speaking to one another. Alexander looked over at John.

"Could we stick together?" he asked.

"Of course," John responded. "Where do you want to train first?"

Alexander took a deep breath, scanning the room. The careers were practicing with the spears in the left corner of the room. He watched Thomas pick up a spear, before sending it hurtling towards a training dummy. It hit its mark. The spear glided through the dummy effortlessly, hitting the wall on the other side. Thomas turned, smirking straight at him, and winked. Alexander shuddered. He was going to be that dummy as soon as they entered the arena. He turned away, looking for something to do that would be far away from Thomas.

Should’ve listened to John.

A few Capitol citizens sat on a floor above the tributes, watching them. Alexander looked around for cameras, and wasn’t surprised to see a few in the corners of the room. Was this being televised? He didn’t know. The Hunger Games was something that John knew more about, something that Alexander avoided.

He gulped. There was no way he could kill these other kids. These other kids who were stumbling with their own weapons. These kids who were nervously glancing over at the careers the same way Alexander was. His throat constricted.

“I’m going to get a drink,” he whispered, walking out of the room. 

He walked down the long hallway, focusing on his breathing, trying not to let the dizziness get to him. The entire room seemed to grow and shrink in size. Calm down. 

Left. Right. Left. Right.

He stumbled into the bathroom, leaning against the wall, breathing shallowly. He slid down, collapsing onto the ground. This had only happened once before, when his mother died. The world spinning, him trying to get a grip on things and failing. He could feel the tears running down his face, but it seemed more like a dream. He desperately clutched at his sleeve, biting his lip and trying to get a hold of things. It wasn’t working. He would need to wait it out. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing. It wasn’t working.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard the bathroom door open and someone enter. Suddenly, there were two large hands on his arms, holding him. Alexander didn’t open his eyes, letting whoever it was hold him, whispering assurances right by his side. Telling him to breathe. Alexander took a shuddering breath in again, before the hyperventilation flared up again and he was a sobbing mess.

“Shh, it’s going to be alright,” the voice said. Alexander’s brain was still going a mile a minute, and he couldn’t focus on the words very well. “Think about the smell of the bathroom. It’s not great, right? Focus on it.”

Alexander did what the voice asking, paying attention to the air freshener that failed to mask the stench of the bathroom. He nodded, the tears stopping. He was still hyperventilating. 

The hands loosened around him. 

“Five things you can see?” 

Alexander opened his eyes, the brightness of the bathroom blinding him temporarily before he locked onto the eyes of the kid in front of him. It was the boy from Colony 8, Lafayette. He smiled reassuringly. Alexander blinked a few times, sweeping his eyes around the room. He felt a little nervous in the grip, but did what the voice asked him.

“Your eyes. The floor. The bathroom door,” Alexander listed. He turned his head a little to the right. “A sink. A soap dispenser.”

“Good,” Lafayette said. “Four you can, um, feel?”

“Your hands on my arms,” Alexander started. Lafayette let go, seeming to suddenly remember that his hands were on Alexander. Hamilton let out a tiny whine, missing the contact. “Um, my shirt on my skin. The bathroom floor. My back against the wall.”

“Three that you can hear.”

“Your voice. My breathing,” Alexander said. He focused on his surroundings, trying to find a third sound. He heard a clicking sound coming from outside. “The shoes of someone in the hallway.”

“Good job. Two that you can smell.”

That was easy. “Really bad air freshener, and a fart.”

Lafayette let out a giggle, and Alexander smiled. 

“Okay, one more thing. Can you taste anything?”

“My own saliva,” Alexander said. His breathing was back to normal, and he was no longer crying. He looked at Lafayette, and felt a pang of guilt travel through him. Lafayette was probably going to get killed too. 

“Are you better?” Lafayette asked. 

Alexander nodded, offering the boy a smile. 

“Bien. My name is Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand for Alexander to take. “Most of my friends call me Laf. Easier to say, no?”

Alexander took Laf’s hand, and Laf pulled him up so that he was standing. 

“Alexander Hamilton,” he responded. “Enemies call me Hamilton. I don't have friends.”

“You do now,” Lafayette said. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

“Thanks,” Alexander said, smiling. “But, uh, we’ll be trying to kill each other in two weeks, in case you forgot.”

“It’s easy to forget, is it not?” Lafayette asked, a twinge of sarcasm lacing the question. He raised a brow, looking towards Alexander with an inquisitive look on his face.

“Everyone’s going to forget as soon as we’re in that arena,” Alexander said, bitter. He stepped away from Lafayette, the guilt and the fear gnawing at him.

“I won’t forget if you don’t forget.”

Alexander nodded, and there was silence for a little bit as they looked at each other. Lafayette wiped the wetness off of Alexander’s cheeks. 

“The games were created to divide us. Don’t let them win,” Lafayette said. “Remember your true enemies. It’s not the other tributes.”

Alexander nodded, and Lafayette stepped away, walking towards the stalls. “Well, I did come here to, how you say, poop,” he said, letting out a laugh. He waved carelessly at Hamilton. “Au revoir, Alexandre.”

“Wait,” Alexander said, and Lafayette turned around, raising an eyebrow. “How did you know what to do? When I was panicking?”

Lafayette’s face softened, and he looked down. “My brother, Michel. He has the same problem.”

He walked away, without another word. Alexander didn’t stop him, instead turning to the bathroom door and walking out. He made his way back through the unfamiliar hallways to the training room.

John was working at one of the stations when Alexander got back. He was bent over a rope, tying knots into it. He gave Alexander a worried glance was he saw him. Alexander assured him that he was, in fact, okay. He left out the entire part about meeting Laf in the bathroom. It didn't seem like John would be that happy about it.

John showed Alexander the rope that he was working on. It was a trap, designed to hook around another person's leg and hoist them into the air. Alexander nodded, pretending to be fascinated by the contraption, even though it just brought a sick feeling to his stomach. 

Alexander looked around at the competition- It felt weird calling them that. Most of them seemed to be better off than he was. While several of the tributes from the outer colonies looked like Alexander, scrappy and hollow, the tributes from the wealthier colonies all had a similar muscular structure. They could probably snap Alexander in half with their bare hands if they wanted to. He felt a shiver travel down his spine. They probably would.

The door to the training center opened again, Lafayette walking in. He gave Alexander a warm smile, and Alexander returned it. Nobody else on his side would approve of the alliance, but he would still ask about it later.

Lafayette headed back to the other tribute from his district. What had his name been? Alexander couldn't remember. Whatever it was, the kid seemed nervous. While he was seventeen years old, older than Alexander was, he looked a lot younger. He seemed to curl in on himself, and Alexander could feel the fear radiating off of him. Lafayette made a joke, because in a few seconds, the other kid was laughing too. The sight brought an inexplicable smile to Alexander's face. 

Alexander turned back to John, who was still talking about how to tie the knots to make the trap. Alexander nodded along, pretending to listen. Soon, John was looking at him expectantly. He picked up the rope, hastily tying a knot, and failing. John gave him a disapproving look.

“I’m going to go practice with the knives,” Alexander said, walking away. He walked to the station. There was nobody else there. He picked up a knife, aiming at the target. His fingers felt clammy around the knife, hands shaking as he realized what he was practicing for. He let out a cry as he threw the knife.

It didn’t reach the target. It was shot out of the air by a spear, dissonantly clattering to the ground. Alexander yelped, startled. He heard snickering next to him, and let out a controlled breath. Thomas Jefferson. Alexander turned, giving him a glare.

“What’re you so upset about? It wouldn’t have reached the target anyway.”

“Yes, it would’ve,” Alexander said. “If some asshole hadn’t knocked it out of the air.”

Thomas picked up a knife, twirling it around his lean fingers. The movement caused Alexander to freeze, focusing wide-eyed on the knife. Jefferson held out the knife, handing it to Alexander.

“Humor me,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow. 

Alexander bit down his response, picking up the knife and feeling the same clamminess return to his hands. He wiped his palms on his pants, trying to get the sweat off. Thomas Jefferson continued to stare at him.

“Any day now would be great, Hamilton,” he said.

A jolt of rage traveled through Alexander, and he threw the knife with all of his strength. It spun through the air, bouncing off the target and hitting the ground, rocking a little bit.

“What did I say?” Thomas Jefferson asked, smiling.

Alexander picked up another knife, hurling it at the target again. It bounced off again, the blade failing to sink into the target. Thomas gave him a smug grin as Alexander went for another knife.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Thomas said.

“Fuck you,” Alexander responded, throwing the knife. The blade hit the target this time, but it didn’t sink far enough in to stay. It slipped out, falling to the ground next to the other knives. Alexander groaned, stubbornly reaching for another knife.

“How long are you going to keep at this?” Thomas asked.

Alexander threw the knife. “I’d like to see you do better.’

“Gladly,” Thomas drawled, pushing Alexander out of the way and picking up a knife. He twirled it around his fingers for a few seconds, the knife appearing to look like a part of him, moving exactly how he wanted it to in his grip. Alexander took a step back as a determined look crossed Thomas’ eyes, and he threw the knife.

It cut through the air with a whoosh, before sinking into the exact center of the target. Thomas smiled back at Alexander. 

“You can close your mouth now, darling,” Thomas said, placing a finger on Alexander’s chin and pushing up, bringing his jaw back up. Alexander hadn’t even notices that his jaw had dropped. He was definitely going to die, he was certain of it now. He pulled his face away from Jefferson’s hand.

“Asshole,” Alexander said. He picked up another knife.

“Do you ever stop?” Thomas asked. “Learn to quit, Hamilton.”

“Learn to fuck off,” Alexander responded. He was about to throw the knife, but Jefferson grabbed his wrist before he let go.

Thomas pulled the knife out of Alexander’s grip. 

“Here, hold it like this,” he said, placing the knife back into Alexander’s hands, manipulating his fingers into holding the knife a different way. Alexander yanked his hand away, glaring back at Jefferson. Thomas gave him a shrug. “Try it.”

Alexander took a deep breath, arranging his fingers the way Jefferson had shown and throwing the knife. It sunk into the edge of the target. While it wasn’t perfect, like Thomas’ was, it had at least stayed on the target. Alexander looked up at Thomas, hating the height difference between them.

“You’re welcome,” Thomas said, beginning to stride away.

Alexander was about to ask how to aim the knife so that it would hit the center, but bit his tongue. Thomas Jefferson was the enemy. There was no reason for Alexander to be fraternizing with him. John would probably kill him. He would probably already kill him if he figured out that he considered Laf a friend.

He tore his eyes away from Thomas’ retreating form, picking up another knife. He stayed there for about an hour, and by the end, he had come about five inches away from Thomas’ blade. While he wasn’t perfect, at least he could use a weapon if he needed to. He walked towards the target, pulling out all his blades, leaving Jefferson’s right where it was. Incentive for tomorrow.

His eyes trailed back to the other tributes that were practicing. The tributes who might soon have knives embedded in their backs. His knives, maybe. A shiver traveled down his spine.

It wasn't fair that these kids had to kill others. He couldn't imagine that even the career tributes enjoyed killing other kids, no matter what everyone else thought. Thomas was an asshole, but he didn’t seem like a murderer. Honestly, it was barbaric. How was the Capitol even able to go on like this?

Suddenly, Lafayette's words in the bathroom seemed to make sense. The Capitol had the colonies pitted against each other. That's why the games existed, why the barriers between the colonies existed. If there was no way for them to work together, there was no way that anyone stood a chance against the Capitol.

Remember your enemies, Lafayette had said. 

A smile crept its way onto Alexander's face. He needed to meet with Mercy and discuss the plan. The pamphlets wouldn't write themselves, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Alexander and John start training for the games, and Alexander has a panic attack. He gets to the bathroom, and Lafayette finds him there and helps him through it. He gets back to the training room, and Thomas helps him with knife throwing. Feel free to ask questions!
> 
> Also, if you guys want me to warn about any specific triggers for the upcoming chapters, just ask.


	5. Thomas Jefferson Wanted To Exterminate All Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Testing day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the happiest chapter in this entire cursed story. Have fun with it.  
> Dedicated to my readers for being the happiest thing in my cursed life right now :D

Alexander continued to practice for the next few weeks, making sure to spend at least an hour with the knives every day. After a week, all his knives were landing close the center of the target. A few days later, one of his knives was able to knock Jefferson’s off, both knives hitting the ground with a satisfying clang. He smiled to himself. Finally. Alexander turned to see Thomas smiling at him, looking away as soon as Alexander caught his eye. 

John gave him a solid slap on the back. He had been focusing on practicing with a mace, which made sense. John was extremely strong and quick. It was the perfect fit for him. Still, the thought of John smashing the heads of other tributes left a sick taste in Alexander’s mouth. Was he the only person who noticed the fact that they would be killing each other? Everyone else seemed desensitized to that fact by now. The thought terrified Alexander.

On the side, Mercy, Alexander, Paine, and John were working on the pamphlets. They wrote in all of their free time, and soon they had a collection of twenty-four pamphlets. Mercy has come up with the idea of releasing one every time a tribute died. If Alexander and John died, the plan was to start distributing the pamphlets in their name. A final “fuck you” from beyond the grave.

Of course, nobody else used the word “died.” It was always “incapacitated” or “unable to continue” or some other shit like that. Alexander hated it. Numbing the fact that they were going to die wasn’t going to make their deaths any less likely. He seemed to get satisfaction when people winced as he used that word. He hated the satisfaction.

Testing day seemed to come too fast. They were led downstairs to the training room, same as ever. However, they were supposed to wait outside before coming in. Someone would announce who would be going in. Colony 1 at the beginning, and Colony 12 last. Alexander was last, in fact. Few words were spoken, everyone staring at each other in solemn silence.

"Colony 8. Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert-"

"Oh shut it," Alexander mumbled.

"du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette," the announcer finished.

Lafayette gave Alexander a quick smile, standing up.

"Good luck," Alexander whispered. Lafayette nodded.

"Thank you. Same to you, too," he whispered back. He stood there for a few seconds, looking at Alexander with a wistful expression.

"Colony 8. Marie Joseph-"

"Well, I better go before they call my entire name again." He turned, walking into the room.

John looked at Alexander quizzically.

"You know Marie Joseph, um, Yves...Gilbert?"

"It's Laf, and yes, I know him. You could call us friends," Alexander said. “He’s a nice person. He-”

"Alexander, making friends isn't what we're here for," John whispered. "Now you have a soft spot for him. We can't ally with him, anyway."

"I'm not supposed to make friends, I'm not supposed to make enemies. What exactly am I supposed to do, John?"

"Just stick to the plan," John whispered back. "You and I against the world, right?"

"It's a world that wants us dead. We should be coming up with other ways to live instead of just depending on one another. For all you know, Laf's friendship could help us when we're in the games."

"We're not going to win the games by being friendly, Alexander," John said.

"Of course. Because you're completely fine with the killing. I had forgotten that little bit about you, why don't you-" He was cut off by the announcer.

"Colony 12, John Laurens."

John stood up, walking towards the door. "We're talking about this when I come back."

“Can’t wait,” Alexander said, sarcastically. 

John gave him an exasperated look, before disappearing into the room. Alexander rested his feet on John’s chair, waiting for the announcer to come back.

Testing day was another stupid part of the entire Hunger Games process, at least according to Alexander. A few of the Capitol citizens would watch the tributes perform a skill of their choice, and then give them a score. Later on, the score would be released to the public, another step to the betting games. The tests were never aired, so nobody ever saw them. All they got was a number, from one to twelve. One being abhorrent, and twelve being unattainably good. The careers were always above nines. The outer colonies were almost always fives and sixes. There was a reason outer colonies rarely got sponsors.

Besides, the Capitol would obviously be biased towards the first and second district. The first provided luxury items to the Capitol. If anyone had seen the Capitol, it became painfully evident within the first few minutes that they loved their luxury items. It was actually sickening. Here was the Capitol, stocking up on luxuries while completely neglecting the outer colonies, who were providing their power and their food, and not being compensated in any meaningful way. 

Perfect system, Alexander thought sarcastically.

“Colony 12, Alexander-”

“Yeah, I know,” he said irritably, standing up and entering the room. It was set up the same as before, a bunch of the sponsors and judges sitting on a balcony above the training area. They seemed to be enjoying more than their fair share of wine. There was loud laughter coming from above him, floating over him.

He held his tongue for a few seconds, picking up a knife. Knife throwing was really the only skill that he was any good at.

Alexander was the last tribute to go. He realized the disadvantage immediately. They had already seen twenty three other tributes. They were probably too bored to pay attention to Alexander. He sighed, trying to focus on the target instead of the dread that was beginning to consume him. 

He threw the knife, hesitating at the end, causing it to veer off and hit the wall behind the target with a clang. He winced, the failure hanging in the air. Alexander turned, looking back up to the judges. Most of them seemed uninterested. One of them was snickering. Alexander turned back to the knives, face flushing.

He picked up another knife, angrily throwing it at the target, this time focusing on keeping his hands in the position Thomas had showed him. The knife sank into the target a few inches from the center. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t the worst that he had done.

Alexander picked up a few more knives, throwing them at the target, hitting it every time. The three final knives went directly into the center, making a noise as they hit each other. Alexander smiled, satisfied. It probably wasn’t the best they had seen all day- Thomas had been able to hit one of Alexander’s knives with a spear while it was hurtling through the air. Still, it wasn’t the worst it could’ve been, especially since Alexander had no experience before the games. 

He turned back up to the Capitol citizens on the balcony. There were one or two looking at him and nodding in approval, but the majority of them were more focused on a roast pig that had just arrived. They were barely looking over to Alexander, and they probably hadn't seen what he had done. 

A jolt of rage passed through him, and he picked up a knife, hurling it at the apple inside the pig’s mouth. It sunk in, directly on target, and he smiled. The Capitol citizen stared at him, startled. One of them backed into a bowl of punch, sloshing the liquid everywhere. Alexander would’ve laughed, but he was too angry for that. Instead, he gave the Capitol citizens, their eyes still trained on him, a bow. 

“Thank you for your attention,” he seethed. 

He stormed out of the room, marching to the elevator and pressing the button that would take him to the twelfth floor. He saw John wanting to say something to him, but he pushed him away, getting into his room and locking the door. He sat down on the bed, and that's when the tears started falling. 

Now he had done it. There was no way that the judges were going to give him a good score after the stunt that he’d pulled. Why would they? In fact, they were probably going to give him a score so low that nobody would sponsor him. They were probably going to kill him first in the games, sic a few mutts on him and watch him struggle. Alexander hugged his knees, trying to calm himself down. He heard John at the door, knocking. 

John would probably be mad at him if he found out, but it would be worse if he found out by looking at the score. Alexander pushed himself off the bed, the movement taking all of his energy. He shuffled towards the door, opening it. 

“What happened?” John asked. 

“I threw a knife at them,” Alexander said, sniffling.

“At who?”

“The judges,” Alexander whispered. He looked down, not wanting to see the expression on John’s face. 

“You what?”

“Well, I didn't throw it at a person, I threw it at this roast pig that they had brought out. They weren't focusing on me. I was angry. I didn't think. I'm sorry,” Alexander said. 

“Did anyone get hurt?”

“No. But I sank the knife into the apple in the pig’s mouth,” Alexander said. He hated the little bit of pride that he felt. He shouldn't feel proud about ruining it for them. 

“Did you see their faces?” John asked, a playful tone to his voice. Alexander looked up, confused. There was a smirk on his face. 

“What?”

“What was their reaction?”

“They looked pretty startled. One guy backed up into the punch bowl,” Alexander said. “I left before anyone said anything.”

John snorted. “That's priceless. Please tell me you said something to them.”

A smile tugged it’s way onto Alexander’s lips, matching John’s. 

“I said ‘Thank you for your attention’ and walked out.” Alexander said. 

“That's perfect. God, I wish I could've been there to see their faces,” John said, giggling. 

“I thought you would be mad,” Alexander said, wiping the remaining tears away from his eyes. 

“Alexander, we’re friends,” Laurens said, grinning. He placed a hand around the back of Alexander’s neck, pulling his face closer, breath fanning out across Alexander’s face. Hamilton blushed, as John continued. “And what you did was priceless, honestly.”

John grabbed Alexander’s hand, pulling him over to the dining room. He sat opposite to him, filling both of their plates with food. Alexander slouched in his seat, not in the mood to eat.

“I'm not letting you move until you finish everything on your plate, Alexander,” John said, digging into his own plate. He looked healthier after his time at the Capitol. His cheekbones no longer protruded out of his face, and there was a layer of fat on him. It was an improvement from the bare bones that they both were when they first came to the Capitol. Still, Alexander didn't look much different. In fact, he even looked a little worse than before. 

“Not hungry,” Alexander said, slouching a little more. The idea of eating was sickening, especially when everybody back home was dying of famine. It felt hypocritical to eat as much as John was eating, after they shamed the Capitol for the same exact thing. 

“You will be hungry after we enter that arena. Eat,” John said, picking up a turkey leg.

Alexander grudgingly picked up a spoon, shoveling the mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth. He swallowed dryly, stomach growling with the attention it was finally receiving. Suddenly, he was extremely hungry, and scarfed up the rest of his food. John gave him a satisfied look. 

“Thanks,” he said. 

Mercy walked into the room, chatting amicably with Paine. Alexander and John gave them a smile, as Mercy ran over to the television, turning it on. The Capitol anthem played, and Mercy gestured for all of them to sit at the expensive velvet couch to watch the broadcast. The scores would be announced. Alexander gulped. John looked at him, concerned, before walking over to the sofa and sitting down. 

Alexander sat down next to him, leaning into his side. The channel started, the Capitol announcer describing the scoring system. The only people who were able to see the testing were the Capitol judges that were in the room. All the public would get was a number.

If the judges really wanted to, they could give Alexander a horrible score, and nobody would ever know why. They would just think it was because Alexander couldn't use a weapon. He would lose any chance of sponsorship possible. The gamemakers would finish him off first. 

The announcer moved on, beginning to go through the tributes. They would announce the name, and a picture would appear on the screen along with their score. The career tributes all scored really high, which was expected anyway. Thomas Jefferson and George Washington had the highest scores of the tributes, a ten. Lafayette got a seven. Alexander felt a smile on his face. Maybe Laf wasn't as screwed as he thought. Hercules Mulligan, that's his name, got a six. And soon enough, they’re at Colony 12. John laced his fingers into Alexander's, holding on tightly.

“John Laurens,” the announcer said. The entire room seemed to inhale at the same time. “Seven.”

Everyone let out a sigh of relief. 

“Alexander Hamilton.” Right. Here came the awful score. Here comes the disapproving looks from everyone. He squeezed John’s hand tighter. 

The announcer paused. The number flashed onto the screen. Alexander sees it before the announcer said it.

“Eleven.”

Everyone was silent, looking over to Alexander. Mercy had pure shock on her face. Paine had pride. John’s face was awed, and he was the first to move, wrapping his arms around Alexander in a tight hug, letting out a series of whoops. Alexander laughed, the initial shock worn off. 

Had a tribute from Colony 12 ever gotten an eleven? It seemed impossible. Alexander looked at Paine, and he chuckled. 

“Knew you had it in you,” he said. 

“How?” Mercy asked. 

John cut in for Alexander, telling them the story, filling in missing information with details from his own imagination. Alexander giggled, relaxing into the sofa. There would be people betting on him. The gamemakers had a reason to keep him alive. He sighed in relief. 

While the score was great, he was now singled out. The careers would probably finish him off first, now that he was a threat. 

That was one more thing to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you guys  
> Every comment is another character death averted :D


	6. John Adams Was Better Than Alexander Hamilton. Fight Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interviews.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skipped out on a school dance to write this. I made the write™ decision.

Alexander felt a pin prick in his side for the hundredth time, and winced, his body jumping to the side. Mercy gave him a disapproving glare. 

“I can’t make you look better if you keep moving,” Mercy scolded. 

“I’m not going to get any better if you keep treating me like a pincushion.”

“You need to eat more, Alexander. The only way you’re going to survive is if you stock up on food now. I don’t imagine you’re the best at hunting,” Mercy said, giving Alexander a pointed look. “Maybe if you ate more and were a reasonable size, I wouldn’t have to worry about constantly tailoring your clothes.”

Alexander rolled his eyes again, letting Mercy fit the suit to his body. Today, they were making another public appearance. The last chance for them to win people over. The next they, all the tributes would be locked in the arena, with the goal of killing every other kid in there. Perfection. Alexander sighed, and Mercy cut the last thread. 

"Done," she said. "You're going to have to wait with the other tributes. Try to be likeable, please."

Alexander nodded, and he was led to a room with expensive couches. He dropped onto one of them, the fabric of his expensive suit scratching against his back. He sat rigid, gauging the looks from the other tributes. John hadn't arrived yet. The room was silent, the few tributes that were there were just staring at each other without a word. Lafayette walked in, taking a seat next to Alexander. 

"Good job," he whispered into Alexander's ear. It broke the silence, and Alexander relaxed his shoulders, leaning closer to Lafayette. Laf smiled at him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. There were a million unspoken words between them. Instead, they just looked at each other.

"Good luck," Alexander whispered back, nodding.

Hesitation. Lafayette opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the loud voices of the careers. The entire room shifted as they entered, every tribute looking uncomfortably away from them. Alexander hoped that they would just ignore him, but that didn't seem to be part of their plans. Adams made a beeline directly towards him. Alexander didn't look up, instead pretending to be incredibly interested in a spot on the couch. Adams cleared his throat. He had probably spent his entire life getting everything he wanted. Alexander wasn't going to indulge him now.

"Hello, twerp," Adams said.

Alexander didn't respond.

"Hey, idiot, I'm talking to you." Lafayette snorted from next to Alexander. Adams shot him a toxic look. 

Thomas walked up to Adams, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him back.

"Well, I was going to ask you if you wanted to ally with us, but turns out you're too stupid to even consider the offer. Wouldn't want to ally with an extremist like you anyway."

Alexander looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"Because if you wanted to ally with somebody, you would start the conversation by calling them a twerp. Good tip, I'll be sure to use it in the future. Now I can see why I don't have friends," Alexander said, leaning back into the sofa. There were a few giggles from around the room. Lafayette chuckled, mirroring Alexander's nonchalant look. 

It took whatever power Adams had away from him. He stood there, looking at Lafayette and Alexander for a few seconds, opening and closing his mouth several times. Finally, a look of anger crossed his face.

"I'm killing you two first."

He pivoted on his foot, turning and marching off to the other corner of the room, gesturing at Thomas to follow him. Thomas gave Alexander a quick wink, before following Adams away. 

"You totally wrecked him, mon ami," Lafayette said, giggling. Alexander smiled back, the rest of the room filling up with other tributes. Mon ami, Laf had said. They were still friends. How long would that last? 

Alexander sighed, and John walked into the room, sitting down on the other side of Alexander. He sat up, back straight, legs uncrossed. He looked around, confused at the relaxed postures of everyone else, and the blatant nonchalant stares at the careers. Alexander snickered.

"I'm guessing whatever happened here had something to do with you?" John asked.

"Yes, he, what's the word, completely wrecked Adams," Lafayette said, jumping in. A grin was splayed across his features. He faked tearing up, wiping at his eyes. "It was beautiful."

John gave Alexander an exasperated look. "Why?"

"Dude was being a dick," Alexander said, shrugging. "Now nobody's afraid of him. It works out."

John sighed, wrapping an arm around Alexander's shoulder, relaxing into the sofa like the other tributes. "I leave you for literally five minutes," he mumbled.

Alexander shrugged, and the screen in front of them flickered to life, projecting an image of the stage. It was nothing like the opening parade. There seemed to be even more people watching. In fact, every single citizen of the colonies would be watching, along with the Capitol audience. It was mandatory. Alexander let out a deep breath, and Lafayette shot him a concerned look. He nodded to show that he was okay, and leaned forward, looking at the screen.

The camera panned over the people in the audience, pausing on top of the stylists and mentors. Mercy and Paine waved good naturedly at the cameras, a smile on their faces. Alexander needed to act like a law abiding citizen today. Mentioning anything about rebellion now would be detrimental to everything that they were working on. He swallowed. Be likeable, Mercy had said.

A man came in, gesturing for John Adams to follow him. Being the first tribute from Colony 1 meant that he was going to go first, be the opening. Be memorable. It was another small advantage. That the careers had. After a while, people got bored. People stopped listening. Alexander would be going second from last. John would be going last.

It was clear as soon as Adams stepped into the bright flashing lights that he wasn't comfortable with being there, nervously looking around the room at the people who were watching and cheering. He sat opposite to the interviewer.

Alexander knew who the interviewer was, Martha Dandridge. She had been the interviewer for the past twenty years. She was perfectly composed in front of the camera, and there was a stark contrast between her natural smiles and extroverted personality and Adams' squirming. She tried to help him, the same way she tried to help everyone up there. She tried to make everyone look good, tried to give everyone a story.

She seemed to connect with every single tribute, find something about them that the audience would love. It took her a minute with Adams, but soon enough, he was talking about a girl that he liked, back home. Abigail. Alexander took a deep breath. It made Adams seem human, no longer the impossible-to-kill career that he was before. The audience ate it up, cheering loudly as he bowed.

Washington was next. He hit it off with Martha and the audience immediately, fake smiles and all. It was clear that he earned a bunch of sponsors right off the bat. He talked about wanting to come home to his family, wanting to make the Capitol proud. It made Alexander gag, the words sounding obviously scripted. Fake.

“Do they actually believe this shit?” Alexander whispered to John.

“The audience is eating it up. That’s the reaction you want to get, Alexander.”

Washingto/n took a bow, making way for James Madison, who looked small compared to the rest of the stage. At first he seemed aloof, but he was able to get through to everyone, smiling and talking about his aspirations for the future. He too, bowed to thunderous applause in the background.

Thomas was next, capturing the audience from the moment he stepped onto the stage. He was calm and persuasive, purple suit trailing behind him as he strutted onto the camera. Alexander could see him as an actor in another life. He sat down across from Martha, talking about the message of unity that the games provided. Alexander scoffed at the words, but the audience loved it, cheering him on. He ended with thanking the Capitol for all that they’ve done, and Alexander looked to John incredulously. John rolled his eyes at Jefferson.

Soon enough, the tributes from Colony 3, Eliza and Angelica, took the stage. Eliza talked about how she would use the prize philanthropically, trying to help as many people in her district as she could. Alexander found himself smiling, as she talked about her hopes of funding an orphanage. The smile melted away as he realized that it was either himself or her. They both couldn't get out of that arena alive. The harsh reality of the situation hit him. If he was going to live, every other kid in the room would have to die. 

That would mean John. That would mean Lafayette. 

Alexander wasn't even sure he wanted to get out of that arena alive. If he did, what was the point? There was no way he would be able to live any kind of happy life, not with the guilt that would surround him every day. He leaned further into John.

Eliza curtsied, walking off of the stage. 

Angelica, her sister, came on next. She spoke about protecting her sister during the games. She didn't seem like she was planning on coming out alive, either, throwing as much support as possible to her sister. She ended with questioning the morality of the games. Alexander raised an eyebrow. Nobody ever did that in public, and the fact that she did it in front of so large an audience was amazing. It would cast more of a light on the problem. Maybe he would talk to her later. 

More tributes went up. Soon enough, it was Colony 8's turn. Hercules Mulligan went in first. He was obviously not as suited for the cameras and the large audiences as the careers, instead answering every question curtly. Still, the strategy worked. He seemed like someone that was strong, sullen, hostile. He seemed deadly, definitely a good bet for a sponsorship. Everyone would at least consider him. 

Lafayette was next. He stood up, and Alexander gave him a thumbs up. He walked onto the stage, immediately taking on a extroverted persona. He sat in the chair opposite from Martha, flashing smiles to the audience as much as possible.

"Here's what I wanted to ask you," Martha said, leaning closer to Lafayette. "You volunteered, correct?"

Lafayette nodded, his grin softening.

"Why?" she asked. 

"My family back home. They need money, My brother is sick. I volunteered because I wanted to use the money to help him. I care about him a lot."

The entire audience let out an "aww," melting into their seats. 

"That's so brave of you," Martha said. “Everyone give it up for Lafayette!”

Everyone applauded, and Lafayette took a flourished bow. He waved at the audience a few more times, before walking out of the lights, backstage. He was replaced by Maria Reynolds, talking about her aspirations. Alexander relaxed back into his seat again, the rest of the tributes blurring together.

Soon, it was Alexander's turn. He stood up. He and John were the only people left in the room. The tributes that were finished walked into another backstage room on the other side of the stage. John looked up at Alexander as he was about to leave.

"Wait, I needed to ask you something," he said.

"We need to go," said the man from the Capitol. "You can ask him after."

Alexander gave John an apologetic look, following the man as he was led down the hallway, towards the stage. The audience erupted into applause for the last tribute from Colony 11, and the man gestured to the curtain. Alexander took a deep breath, displaying a smile on his face as he walked onto the stage. He sat down opposite to Martha, who gave him a smile. He smiled back. This was more smiling than he had ever done. His cheeks were beginning to hurt. If every other tribute made it this far, he could do it too. He straightened his back, greeting Martha.

"So, Alexander. You're the first tribute to volunteer from Colony 12 during my entire career. How're you feeling?"

Alexander froze, trying to come up with a good answer. He didn't plan this out at all. He looked into the audience, all the faces staring back at him. His breath started to shallow, until he saw Mercy in the front row, smiling at him. She caught his eye, giving him a thumbs up. Be likeable.

"Nervous," Alexander managed to get out. There were a few good-natured laughs from the audience, and Alexander relaxed a little bit.

"Really? You looked really brave during the opening parade," Martha said, quirking her eyebrow. 

"I had to get over my fear of being burned alive first," Alexander said, grinning.

Martha nodded. "You were amazing, by the way."

"You shouldn't be complimenting me. Compliment my stylist, Mercy," Alexander said.

The camera cut to Mercy, who stood up and took a bow, before the feed was once again focused on Alexander.

"There's another thing I'm sure we're all curious about," Martha sang. "Your training score. E-le-ven"

There was a cheer from the audience, egging her on.

"Give us a clue as to what happened in there, Alexander."

Alexander looked up at the gamemakers and judges, all sitting in a balcony. He grinned.

"All I can tell you is that it must've been a first," Alexander joked.

"Aw, give us more, Alex," Martha said. "We need the de-tails."

Alexander grinned up at the balcony. At the very least, he had the gamemaker's favor. He didn't want to lose it.

"Am I allowed to talk about it?" he asked, addressing the balcony.

The man who had backed up into the bowl of punch responded. "Definitely not!"

There was some laughter from the box, the gamemakers elbowing each other friendlily. 

"My lips are sealed," Alexander said.

"Let's make a deal. If you win, you have to tell us the story," Martha said, grinning. She held out a hand.

Alexander rolled his eyes. "Sure," he said, shaking her hand.

The audience cheered some more. A buzzer sounded behind him.

"Well, a round of applause for our tribute from Colony 12!" Martha yelled. The crowd cheered. Alexander walked up to the front, the same way he saw everyone else do, and took a bow. He walked off of the stage into the backstage room with the other tributes. He sat down next to Lafayette, training his eyes on the screen. 

John had walked on as soon as Alexander had left the stage, and had already settled in next to Martha. The interview started off great, John capturing the audience’s favor from the get-go. He talked about the Capitol showers for a little bit, which had everyone laughing. One of the tributes would giggle or smile sometimes. John was naturally able to get people to like him. Soon enough, Alexander was laughing and smiling with the audience, admiring John.

“So,” Martha asked. “Have a girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

John shook his head, hesitating for a second.

“Really? Funny, handsome boy like you has to have someone, right?”

John laughed for a second, blushing. “Actually, there is someone. He’s amazing, and I’ve had a crush on him forever. I don’t think he knows, though.”

Alexander looked up, surprised. He can see some of the other tributes leaning into the screen, surprised. After all, everyone loves a good story.

“Really?” Martha asked. “Maybe you can win your games for him. He can’t turn you down when that happens, right?” The audience cheered. Martha was once again giving every tribute a story, a reason to win.

“Actually, winning wouldn’t help, in my situation,” John said, looking down.

“Really? Why?” she asked. The audience was silent, waiting for John’s answer.

“Well, he’s here with me.”

It took a few seconds for everyone to understand what John said. All the eyes in the room immediately snapped to Alexander. He blushed, covering his face with his hands. A few emotions passed through him. Confusion. Regret. Anger. This hadn't been what he wanted at all. Sure, John was a really good friend, but they had broke it up. It was over between them. 

"Oh, I see," Martha said, eyes downcast.

"Well, as much as we would like to bring Alexander back out here, rules are rules," Martha said, sparing Alexander from another round of embarrassment. "Everyone give a hand to John Laurens from Colony 12!"

The audience went wild. There was no doubt that John's interview blew the rest of the tributes' interviews out of the water. Alexander sighed, standing up as the Capitol anthem played, and quickly rushing to the door, he ran into John in the hallway. Without saying a word, Alexander grabbed John's shirt, dragging him through a few of the hallways where he was sure they wouldn't be found. Alexander let go, giving John a heated look.

"What the hell was that?" Alexander yelled, throwing his arms up into the air.

"What?" John asked.

"The interview," Alexander seethed. He was angry, but he couldn't pinpoint the reason. "Why the fuck would you say that about me? Were you trying to embarrass me or something?" 

"Alexander, calm down, please," John said.

"No. You have been disapproving of every little thing that I've done since we've gotten here. Making enemies with Jefferson, being friends with Lafayette," Alexander spewed. "Don't you think you should ask me before you drop something like that on national television?"

"I was going to ask you," John said, voice calm. "But you had to leave, remember?"

Alexander glared at him.

"It's not true, anyway," John said, a twinge of disappointment in his voice. "Paine and I worked it out. It was just for the story. I don't know if you noticed, but I think it blew every other interview out of the water. We're literally going to have sponsors lining up for-"

"I don't want to win," Alexander said.

"What?"

"I don't want to win the games."

John looked at Alexander, probably knowing the reason why. It was pretty obvious, after all. If you were going to win the games, you were going to have to kill somebody. While John seemed to accept that without a problem, Alexander couldn't. It was beyond what was imaginable.

He didn't think that the other tributes wanted to kill either. But they would have to, if they were going to win.

There were people who deserved to win more than Alexander. Lafayette, getting medical help for his brother. Eliza, helping with the orphanage. Angelica, ready to sacrifice her life for her sister. Alexander sighed. There was no way that any of this was fair. Still, at this time tomorrow, they would all be trying to kill each other.

Alexander let out a sigh.

Mercy and Paine walked into the hall, looking at John and Alexander. 

"Everything alright?" Mercy asked, looking between the two of them.

"Yes. Everything's fine," Alexander said, coldly. "Next time, tell me before you suddenly make me a pawn in your game."

He turned around, storming out of the hallway with a middle finger in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked the long chapter!
> 
> *writes some part of myself into almost every character*
> 
> I'm thinking of starting a series of spin-off drabbles from different character's points of view. (Especially after the games begin.) Thoughts?
> 
> See ya in two days, loves.


	7. Alexander was a bottom in real life, I have the letters to prove it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: On my outline of all the chapters, this chapter is listed with the bullet point "I actually like this chapter."

"You scared?" John asked, voice cutting through the silence. He looked at Alexander.

They sat opposite to each other in Alexander's room, peering out of the floor-to-ceiling window. The soft lights from the city were the only things lighting either of them up.

Alexander nodded.

Alexander hadn't spoke since their conversation in the hallway, and every one of John's attempts at conversation were met with curt nods and shrugs. Neither of them had been able to sleep. At around two in the morning, John had gone to Alexander's room, apologizing. All he had received was a shake of the head. After a little persuasion, Alexander had sat near the window by John, still a safe distance away.

“Me too,” John said, sighing. “I’m kind of worried.”

Hearing no response, he continued.

“I’m worried that the games will turn me into something I'm not.”

Alexander scoffed. John was already something he was not. As of now, he seemed to have no problems with murdering these other tributes.

“I mean, if I'm going to die, I want to die as me. I don't want to be a pawn of the Capitol. I don't want their games to change me.”

Alexander knew what John was talking about. The tributes in the years before that had seemed likeable at the beginning of the games, and were soon smashing other tribute’s heads in. It was barbaric. He winced as soon as he imagined it happening to John. 

“Alex, I know you don't want to win.”

He paused, and a few of the lights in the city went out. People going to sleep. The final partying before the Hunger Games was ending. 

“But could you stay alive? For me?” John asked. Alexander looked over, a questioning expression on his face. John looked at him, pained. Alexander sighed. 

He had probably just looked like a smiling kid when he was up on stage. He didn't have Mulligan’s silent danger, or Eliza’s sympathy. He was forgettable. 

Well, not exactly. He still had his eleven in training. 

Still, John had managed to put them both on the map. Someone that people should root for. A love story, of all things. Alexander let out another deep sigh, standing up. 

“Go to sleep, John,” he said, standing up. The first words spoken to each other in an eternity. He turned, heading towards his bed. John let out a sigh at Alexander’s words. It was weird seeing him this quiet. 

“I really am sorry, Alexander. But I don't get why you’re so mad. I was helping us, and you’re acting like a petulant child.”

Alexander didn't say anything, climbing into his own bed. He really didn't have a reason to be so upset at John. Still, he needed something to be angry at. John just seemed to take the blame. 

“Alexander, talk to me, please,” John said, tears beginning to streak down his face. 

Alexander looked at John. Bored. Uninterested. It was like a stab to the gut. John choked out a sob. 

“What?” Alexander said. 

“I don't want to spend my last days with you like this, Alexander,” he whimpered, looking at Alexander with a sad expression. “Please.”

Alexander sighed, gesturing for John to join him in the bed. John climbed in, to the left of Alexander. Alexander pulled the covers over the both of them, snuggling in with his back facing John. 

John faced Alexander, wrapping an arm around him, pulling him closer. 

“I’m not mad that you and Paine started up this entire stupid romance thing,” Alexander said. “While I dislike the fact that you did it without asking me, I know that it was the best decision that could’ve been made.” He took a deep breath, face hardening. It wasn’t like John could see it anyway. “I’m mad because you seem to have no problem killing children. Because you wanted to volunteer, and kill children. Because you seem to be buying into this entire pitting-everyone-against-each-other thing. How aren’t you more disturbed by this?”

John was silent, for a few seconds.

“I’m not going to kill them unless I have to.”

“Great, I thought you were totally going to be doing it for fun,” Alexander said.

“I’m sacrificing the few for the many, Alexander. I thought you would understand. People are going to die anyway, it’s a fucking revolution.”

“They didn’t sign up to die.”

“If one of us doesn’t win, then tons of other kids who didn’t sign up to die are going to keep dying,” John said. “You need to try.”

“No,” Alexander said.

“Promise me you’ll at least try. Please.”

“I don’t want to.”

“The people are going to-”

“Kill me once we get in the arena, okay?” Alexander said bitterly. “I can’t live with this.”

The room was silent once again. The entire revolution seemed pointless. Why would the people follow Alexander anyway, especially if he had killed people to get to where he was? If John wanted to lead the revolution, he could. Alexander couldn’t. If one of them was going to survive, it would have to be John. Not Alexander.

Alexander tried to go to sleep, but his brain kept on racing through what might happen tomorrow. Where would he be dropped in the morning? Desert? Tundra? Forest? There was no way to prepare. Every location had its own set of problems. Hopefully there would be trees. At the very least, he could climb a tree while all the chaos unfolded under him. That way, he wouldn’t kill anyone.

“I’ll survive as long as I don’t have to kill anyone,” Alexander said. “Except maybe Jefferson, he’s a pompous dick,” he joked.

“Thank you,” John whispered.

Alexander turned away from the window to face John. He wrapped an arm around him, enjoying the little bit of warmth that John provided. They stared at each other for a while, trying to memorize every bit of the other’s face. 

John leaned over, placing a quick kiss on Alexander’s forehead. 

It probably wouldn’t be a desert. Everyone would die too easily. The gamemakers would want a show. Not as many people watching if everyone died of dehydration, instead of being brutally murdered by another tribute.

There was no noise, even as the sun rose up above the city, painting the sky pink, yellow, then blue. The light danced into the room, draping over Alexander and John. The silence was slowly broken by the sound of birds calling. Somewhere, there was the tinkling of wind chimes. A reminder that it was morning. Neither of them had slept.

Alexander sat up in the bed, pushing the covers down to go get ready for the day. He looked at John for a second, before pushing himself out of the bed and heading towards the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, staring at his reflection for a while before turning and heading to the dining room.

Last meal.

It was waffles, of all things. Alexander had never had waffles before. He drizzled the syrup on generously, stuffing it into his mouth. It was delicious. He groaned a little, realizing how much food he had been missing out on because of his stubbornness. Alexander piled more waffles onto his plate, deciding to eat as much food as possible before he entered the arena. 

Was it possible to win without killing a single person? It seemed impossible, but the message it would send would help the entire revolution. If there was going to be a revolution. It seemed far fetched at this point. At least, he hoped he would be a catalyst. Someone who would be able to start the change. Hopefully, Mercy and Paine followed through from their end.

Unity.

That was the word that Lafayette used. The word that they all had to use now. The games were made to split the colonies. Maybe if they were able to show that they wouldn’t kill each other, it would be better. If there was a way for every single tribute to lay down their weapons. Stop firing on each other. Show that they were above the Capitol.

Alexander didn’t notice John walking in, sitting across from him.

“What’re you thinking?” he asked.

Alexander chewed the waffle that was in his mouth. He swallowed before answering.

“I know you don’t want to ally with another tribute, but I was thinking that maybe forming an alliance would be just what we need. To transcend this entire ‘colony against colony’ bullshit?”

John raised an eyebrow.

“How would you know that they wouldn't betray us?” he asked. 

“Lafayette wouldn't,” Alexander mumbled, remembering what Laf had said about unity. He believed in uniting everyone just as much as John or Alexander. 

“I've been meaning to ask you,” John started, hesitating a little bit. He twirled the fork in his finger. “What's going on between you and Lafayette?”

Alexander let out a chuckle. “Why, you jealous?”

“Having attachments is not great when you’re entering a game where one person gets out, Alexander,” John said. “Which was why the original plan didn't have you volunteering. But look where we are now.”

Alexander shrugged. “We’re friends. He helped me through a panic attack.”

And he was going to die. Alexander sighed, realizing the situation that he was in. Attachments were a bad idea. He groaned. 

“If I killed him, what would you do?” John asked. 

Alexander looked up, barely choking out a “what?”

“If I had to kill him, what would you do?”

“Why would you have to kill him?” Alexander asked. 

“Maybe he was attacking us.”

“Laf wouldn't attack us,” Alexander insisted. 

“Pretend he was.”

“He wouldn't,” Alexander repeated. “You know why? He believes in the same things as us. Uniting the colonies against the Capitol. Not everyone is evil, John. We’re surrounded by kids. I doubt any of them actually want to kill.”

John was silent. Alexander stuffed a few more pancakes into his mouth, chewing at them slowly. 

It seemed insane that John could even consider the option. Then again, every other tribute was probably considering the same options. Did anyone realize that by killing these other kids, they would be deepening the splits between colonies? That they weren't solving anything?

“To answer your question, I would downright hate you if you killed someone like Laf.”

Alexander stood up, losing whatever appetite he had a few minutes prior. He ignored whatever half assed defense John was coming up with. He didn't care that he was being irrational. It didn't matter. Leaving the plates on the table, Alexander walked back to his room, locking the door behind him. He and John hadn't fought in all the years that they knew each other, but the Hunger Games had ruined everything. 

He stayed in his room for the next hour, and he didn't see John for the rest of the morning. Instead, Mercy led him out to a plane, where he was flown to the arena. The final dressing and preparation was always done in the catacombs underneath the arena. 

A Capitol woman came up to Alexander during the flight, asking him to show his hand to her. She injected a glowing mass into his forearm. It rested underneath his skin, creating a small bump. He poked at it experimentally, and was met with a stab of pain. 

“Your tracker.”

Right. Because we couldn't have tributes getting lost during the games. Need to know exactly where to manipulate the arena to push tributes closer together.

Alexander looked out of the windows in awe. He had never been this high above the ground before, the trees looking like dust specks. This is what birds saw. Then again, birds were free. He was not. 

After the plane landed, Mercy led Alexander to a room beneath the arena. She helped him pull on the outfit, same for every tribute. Thick cargo pants and a regular t-shirt. She also pulled on a jacket that engulfed him, falling to his knees. He felt small. 

They looked at each other for a while, before the countdown began. Alexander let out a sigh, holding out his arms for Mercy. She gave him a hug, squeezing him tight. He kissed her temple. 

“Thank you. For everything,” Alexander whispered. 

“Good luck in there, alright? Don't let the games change who you are.”

“I won't,” Alexander assured. They stayed like that for a little bit, until there's another announcement saying that the tributes have thirty seconds left. Alexander breaks the contact, giving Mercy a nervous expression.

“Paine and I will take care of everything back here, okay? Get your old pamphlets to resurface, publish your new ones. Whatever you did will not be in vain.”

Alexander nodded, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. 

“Hey, I'll see you on the other side?” she asked, offering a smile. Even though it was a little sentiment, Alexander smiled too. 

“I'll see you on the other side.”

She led him into the glass capsule. The announcer alerted them that he would be entering the arena in five seconds. He placed his hand on the glass, and Mercy placed hers on the other side. 

Slowly, the floor of Alexander’s glass capsule began to rise up. He looked at Mercy for as long as possible, knowing that he’d probably never see her again. 

Well, there was always the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: The Hunger Games are actually going to be starting in the next chapter. There's going to be blood, violence, and death. If any of this stuff is potentially triggering for you, please don't read further. Your mental health is much more important than this fanfic. Thank you.
> 
> If you have any triggers, please tell me, and I will happily mark them. If you want chapter summaries at the bottom of certain chapters, feel free to ask. The comments are always open if you need to ask about anything else. (And if you want it to be private, there's always my tumblr.)
> 
> Thank you lovelies for reading, and I'll see you in two days!


	8. Alexander Hamilton Challenged the Entire Democratic Republican Party to a Duel Once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter during a sleepover while everyone else was asleep: The story of why my friends hate me.  
> The games go on for the next eleven chapters, so there's 28k words of that to look forward to.  
> More importantly: Thanks for sticking with me for so long!  
> Long 3.2k chapter for you!

Sixty seconds. 

That's how much time they had to stare at the other tributes, decide whether they were going for the cornucopia or not. One one hand, the cornucopia was filled to the brink with all kinds of supplies. Food, water, weapons. Knives. On the other hand, the race towards the cornucopia was always a bloodbath. Around half of the tributes died at the cornucopia last year. 

Forty-five seconds. 

Alexander looked at the other tributes, trying to gauge how many would be going for the cornucopia. He caught John’s eye, and he shook his head imperceptibly at Alexander. The look told him not to go there. 

Thirty seconds. 

Alexander turned and looked at the tribute next to him. Angelica, Eliza’s sister. She caught his eye, giving him a deadly look. He looked away. How many people here wanted to kill him? He was a threat now, wasn't he. 

Fifteen seconds. 

The tributes weren't allowed get off of their platforms before the countdown was over. Do that, and the landmines would blow them up. Alexander considered it for a second. Seemed easier than death by another human being. His promise to John rang in his head. He would try to survive as long as he didn't kill anyone. He looked back at the cornucopia. 

Ten seconds. 

His breath caught in his throat.

Nine seconds. 

Was he going for the cornucopia?

Eight seconds.

Alexander looked back towards the forest behind him, the damp air already beginning to heat him up to an uncomfortable temperature. 

Seven seconds. 

Ditch the cornucopia. Find a water source. That's what Paine had said. 

Six seconds.

But was it really the best idea to be wandering around without any supplies at all? He looked back towards the cornucopia

Five seconds. 

At the very least, he could get a knife. Something to threaten other people with. Something that he could use for hunting. 

Four seconds. 

The waffles seemed to turn in his stomach. There was no way that he was going to survive the cornucopia if he went there. 

Three seconds. 

But if he didn't go now, then he would probably lose the opportunity. The careers always guarded the cornucopia against anyone wanting to get supplies. A monopoly over the entire games. Now would be his only chance to get supplies. 

Two seconds. 

Alexander looked over at John again. He seemed ready to run the other direction, away from the cornucopia. Alexander swept his eyes across the field, seeing Laf preparing to do the same thing. 

One second.

Well shit. 

“Let the seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin,” the announcer announced, the voice bouncing around the arena. Alexander froze for a second as everyone began to run. He cursed himself, hating the disadvantage he put himself at. He flung himself towards the cornucopia, running as fast as possible. His eyes locked in on the knives, the only way that he could defend himself.

Alexander stumbled towards them, but someone else got there first, picking up a knife. His breath shortened as he began to backpedal, trying to get away from the person. They stared at him for a few moments. They were a tribute from one of the outer districts. They weren’t that different from Alexander himself. Would they actually kill? Alexander felt himself open his mouth, maybe to talk them out of it.

It’s too late. They coughed, and a spray of blood spattered over Alexander. He grimaced, not realizing what happened. Only a second later, they fell, a knife embedded in their back. Alexander gasped, unsure of how to react to the stench of death all around him. The green grass looked like poison, no longer in focus in front of his eyes. The sky started to swirl, and the screams of pain surrounded Alexander. He tried to breathe normally, failing. 

Move.

He lunged for the knife in the person’s hand. The rest of the knives seemed to have already gone missing, probably taken by whoever had killed the kid in front of Alexander. Alexander’s wandering eyes shot up, trying to figure out who had taken the knives. Who had taken the one thing that Alexander could use? He paled as his eyes settled on the tall form.

Thomas Jefferson.

He was looking at Alexander. 

Run.

Alexander wrenched the knife out of the kid’s dead hands, hesitating for only a second before also pulling out the knife that was stuck in the kid’s back. He muttered a silent apology, beginning to run away from the carnage.

There was a lone backpack, away from the rest of the supplies, a dying girl’s hand still wrapped around it. It was a split second decision, Alexander pulling it up as he ran past it. He tried not to think of the person he left behind as he ran. 

Suddenly, there was the whistling of a knife behind him, and he raised the backpack to cover his head instinctively. The knife embedded itself into his backpack, and Alexander let out a small smile despite himself. Another knife was a great thing.

Alexander bounded into the woods, running directly into another tribute. He staggered backwards, lifting his own knife towards them in fear. It took him a second to realize it was Lafayette. He was carrying a bag identical to Alexander’s, save for the knife. They looked at each other for a few seconds, terrified eyes staring into each other. Alexander was the first to move, sprinting away from Lafayette, away from the wide eyes. Behind him, Lafayette ran in the opposite direction.

Find John.

Where would John go? Alexander’s eyes darted throughout the forest, trying to find some clue. There was none. Only trees everywhere. Alexander felt his breathing shallow again, remembering the possible threat of the tributes behind him. He began to blindly run, deeper into the forest. As long as he was far away from everyone else, he would survive the night. It would be alright.

A cannon blast rang out across the arena. Alexander flinched, not expecting it. His brain supplied him with the information. The bloodbath at the cornucopia was over. The cannon blast signaled a dead tribute. The blasts on the first day only came after the fighting at the cornucopia was over, because it was hard to see who was dead and who was dying.

Alexander stopped, counting the cannon blasts. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. It’s silent. Nine are dead. Their bodies are collected by the hovercrafts and sent back to the Capitol, where they are locked in a wooden box and sent home. The little bit of hope that the district had would be wiped away. 

A horrifying thought crossed Alexander’s mind. What if it was John’s body in that hovercraft? He turned, looking back in the direction he came from, longing to know. The last he had seen John had been right before the countdown ended. The look that said “don’t do it.” Well, he did it. He hadn’t seen which way John had run, though. Was there a chance that he, too, ran into the cornucopia? Didn’t make it out alive. He wouldn’t know until the tributes were projected onto the night sky, the Capitol anthem playing in the background.

The shake of his head. That was last that Alexander had seen of John. What if that was the last he ever saw? He turned around again, heading away from the cornucopia. The careers had the cornucopia right now. Moving back there would be a death wish. 

Not that Alexander didn’t have one. Still, he promised John that he would try to survive. That’s what it was, he told himself. The promise was the thing that was keeping him going.

Slowly, twilight began to close in. The artificial lights of the morning began to fade away, the sky being painted with dark blue. Alexander rested against a tree, breathing heavily. He had to keep swallowing, trying to wet his tongue again. He needed water. At least for now, he could figure out a way to survive the night. He eyes fell upon a tree with branches that started low enough to climb. He ignored the dryness in his throat. Water would be a first priority tomorrow. For now, his aching muscles needed rest. 

He climbed until he was sitting on a large branch, panting. He leaned against the trunk, trying to look for movement underneath him. There was nothing. Not a rustle. He was alone, more lonely than he had ever been. Then again, there were the cameras that were constantly watching him, tracking his every move. The betting always skyrocketed at the end of the first day, after the initial deaths came in from the cornucopia. 

Alexander opened his backpack, examining the contents. There was a thermal sleeping bag, which was perfect. The nights seemed to be significantly colder than the days in this arena. The sleeping bag helped with that. There was also tons of rope in the backpack. A little smile crossed his face. Little steps. 

He began work on tying the sleeping bag into the tree, using the knife to score the tree and cut through the rope. By the time night fell, he had a perfect sleeping situation above the chaos. He hoped it stayed that way. 

His thoughts were interrupted as the Capitol anthem began to play, he looked up into the sky, biting his lips nervously. One thing was on his mind. John. 

The faces of the dead tributes would show up, similarly to when the scores were announced. However, instead of a score, their colony number was displayed next to them. 

The first face flashed into the air. A young boy, about fourteen. Colony 4. That meant that all the tributes in Colony 1, Colony 2, and Colony 3 survived. Those were the careers, and Angelica and Eliza. The boy’s face was replaced, this time with a fifteen year old girl. Also Colony 4. The slideshow continued. A girl from Colony 5. A tribute from Colony 6 flashed into the air, and Alexander’s breathing stopped as a flicker of recognition ran through him. It was the kid who died right in front of him, trying to get the knives. The kid killed by Thomas Jefferson. Their face lingered a second more, before it was replaced by another tribute. 

Alexander counts them out, reaching eight as a girl from Colony 11 is flashed across the sky, the Capitol anthem beginning to loop again. He holds onto a branch, trying to ground himself. The next person could be John. 

It's not. It's a boy from Colony 11. 

Alexander sighed loudly, climbing into his sleeping bag hammock. Almost immediately, he can feel his body heat reflected back at him. It was soothing, and he relaxed into the bag, content. 

Suddenly, there was a rustle underneath him, and Alexander feels his entire body jolt, snapped out of the relaxation he was feeling a second earlier. There was someone under him. He slowed his breathing, trying to keep as still as possible, his body rigid. He heard a voice. It was hard to make out the exact words, but Alexander knew it was a girl. There was another voice following it, louder and gruffer. There was no more sound for a few seconds. Alexander held his breath. Had they seen him?

Alexander was torn between reaching for his knife for a way to defend himself or staying still so that he wouldn’t draw any attention to himself. The children below him seemed to have different plans. Alexander can hear the click of a lighter before he smelled the smoke rising into the trees. He risked looking out of his sleeping bag at the people below him.

It was a boy and a girl. The girl had a mass of dark curled hair that fell down to her chest. The boy towered over her. She seemed to inch away from him. The boy was carrying a large spear. Alexander could remember that they were from one of the outer colonies. What was it? Colony 9? They were building a fire under Alexander, probably to keep warm for the night.

Idiots. 

They’ve just broadcasted their location to everyone. Served themselves and Alexander on a silver platter. He groaned to himself, burying himself in the sleeping bag. There was no way to escape easily, and the camouflage sleeping bag was the best place he had to hide. His small size was an advantage in this case, allowing him to get his entire body into the bag. 

The smoke from the fire would be able to rise above the trees so that anyone in the arena would be able to see where they were. Sure, it would be hard to survive the night when it was this cold, but that shouldn’t warrant setting a fire. Alexander snuggled deeper into the makeshift hammock. He would have to wait it out. 

Alexander kept himself up for an hour, trying to distract himself by thinking about what Mercy and Paine would be doing in the Capitol. There was no sound other than the quiet voices below him, and the soft breeze that blew through the trees. That, coupled with the warmth that the sleeping bag was giving him seemed to slowly lull him to sleep, rocking in the trees. He tried to stay awake, but the stress of the games and the fact that he hadn’t slept in over a day caused him to finally doze off in the tree, above the rest of the world.

Cannon blast.

Alexander jolted awake, mentally berating himself for falling asleep in the first place. He backtracked. A cannon blast meant a dead tribute. Maybe somebody had finally found them. He squirmed up in the hammock, peering down. The two tributes were still there. Except, the boy was dead. There was a spear in his back, the blood blossoming on his clothes. The girl stood over him, frozen, holding the spear. Alexander couldn’t see the expression on her face, but he could hear the sigh that she let out.

He felt sick, sliding back into his sleeping bag, fatigued. That was ten dead. Thirteen to go. 

The girl kicked out the fire. She began to walk away, before looking back once. She walked back, pulling out the spear. Alexander heard her sigh again, before she turned and ran away. Alexander stayed in the tree for a little while longer, trying to size up the situation. He needed water. The backpack had a water bottle, but it didn’t have any water. It seemed to mock him.

Water was the first priority.

Alexander gripped the branch above him, sliding out of the sleeping bag, flinching as his skin came in contact with the cold morning air. The shock kept him working. His head throbbed mercilessly. Using the knife, he cut through the knots in the rope that secured the sleeping bag to the tree. He rolled up the sleeping bag, stuffing it back into the bag. He rolls up the pieces of rope messily, dropping it into the backpack as well.

He pulled the bag on, testing the branch under him and stepping down. He carefully climbed down the tree, letting out a sigh of relief has he hit the steady ground. Alexander was no longer swaying in the trees. He felt marginally safer. Still, his tongue had a few spots that refused to moisten, and he felt like he needed to throw up and keep throwing up. The world seemed to spin around him, and it took a few seconds for him to regain his footing. He didn’t know if it was from the dehydration or the fact that he was finally on the ground again.

Alexander leaned against the tree, gritting his teeth. His condition didn’t improve. He needed water. 

He began to blindly stumble away from the tree, the backpack seeming to weigh an impossible amount. There was no way he could hunt in this condition. The cameras seemed to drill into him. Paine could see him. Paine was controlling the flow of gifts from the sponsors. Could he not see how much Alexander needed the water?

Alexander’s eyes swept over the trees, trying to find a camera. It didn’t take long. He looked directly into it, hoping that Paine saw him, hoping that Paine would send him the water.

“Wa-” Alexander started, but was cut off by his throat constricting. He made the hand motion to show that he needed water. He waited a few minutes for the gift to come. Nothing came. Alexander sunk to the ground, coughing. Every movement took effort. He groaned.

Did he not have sponsors? Was he really this alone in the games? The sense of loneliness that had been following him around for the past few days returned. The trees towered over him menacingly, seeming to spiral upwards. Alexander’s eyes stung. Paine was withholding the water. But why? The answer came to Alexander. He must’ve been close to the water. Close enough that it would be useless to deliver it to him.

Alexander pushed himself onto his hands and knees, straining. The initial shock seemed to have worn off, and now Alexander felt pain with every breath that he had. His vision was darkening around the edges, and every breath took effort. He rested his head on the ground for a few seconds, but felt sleep attempting to overtake him.

The cannon blast replayed in his head.

Alexander jolted up again, trying to find some reason to go on, some reason to move forward. It all seemed so pointless. If he died, nothing would happen. The world would still spin. He collapsed to the ground, shuddering. He had felt like this at so many moments in his life. The tears wouldn’t work their way out of his eyes. They felt dry.

There wasn’t a reason. Nobody cared about him anyway. His mother and father were gone. He knew he had a brother, but nobody ever talked about him anyway. He was dead. The only other family he had, his cousin, had committed suicide, probably because of Alexander.

His mind began to spiral again, recounting everything that he had ever done wrong. It wouldn’t stop. How did he stop it before?

John.

Alexander immediately thought about John, about all the time they had spent together back at home, about how John had helped him work through everything. 

Don’t give up.

It played like an anthem in his head. The words that John had repeated to him throughout most of their childhood. After his father left. After his mother died. 

Don’t give up.

If he made it to the water, he could find John, apologize for whatever argument they seemed to be in now. He needed to get to John. He pushed himself back up, crawling since he didn’t have the energy to stand. He had to be close to the water.

Don’t give up.

He kept moving, vision spotting out every now and then. The dry ground under his fingertips melted away to mud. Alexander grimaced, feeling the slimy substance on his fingers, before his brain caught up. Where there was mud, there was water.

With renewed energy, he pushed forward, waiting for his reward. And there it was, a flowing river. He pushed himself over, finally calming down as his face was submerged in the water. He drank thirstily, trying to get as much water as possible.

He was safe for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love to answer questions about this AU,,, pls spam me in the comments I will love you forever  
> OKAY BUT WAIT, I HAVE A FEW QUESTIONS FOR YOU (ya don't have to answer them. I'm cool with you just headsmashing your keyboard in the comments if that's all you have the energy for.)
> 
> 1) IF YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS PLEASE TELL ME I WANT YOU TO BE S A F E!  
> 2) Romance: I cannot write it. (Believe me; I've tried) While there is a romantic Lams moment in this fic, it's really small and doesn't really affect the plot. However, I can attempt to add some Jamilton in there if you guys would like it. (And because my friends keep asking) So, question is this: How important is romance to you?  
> 3) Should I post this story on tumblr? (I honestly just need affirmation for this. It took ten chapters for me to work up the courage to post this here)
> 
> THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR READING  
> trust me i am just a dead meme i love you guys


	9. Jefferson Ordered A Super Expensive Bust of Hamilton And It's Still In Monticello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today  
> BUT LONG CHAPTER WEDNESDAY!

Alexander spent the next hour setting up traps around the river. It was a position that many tributes would want to have, and he didn’t want someone randomly sneaking up on him. There were also many animals that drank from the stream, meaning that he would hopefully be able to trap something to eat.

The day stretched on, but Alexander kept busy. He filled the water bottle that was in his bag with water, just in case he needed to run. He drank from the stream often, trying to make up for the water that he had lost in the past day. Even though he had felt guilty about eating the pancakes earlier, he would've given almost anything to have Capitol food now. He realized the mistake he had made in not eating as much food as possible before the games. There were tributes that would've gained a few pounds right before the games, while Alexander had remained his usual scrappy self. 

Alexander stood up again, checking the traps that he had laid around the perimeter. One of them had ensnared a squirrel. At the very least, it was better than nothing. He walked back to the stream, wincing as he stabbed his knife into the squirrel, killing it. The stab of guilt that he felt didn't last long, his hunger overtaking it. He used his knife to separate the fur from the flesh of the animal, running the meat in the stream to wash off the blood. He didn't want to set a fire. That would only alert others not only to his position, but to the position of the water. He would have to settle for eating it raw.

It tasted horrible, but Alexander didn't expect anything different. In Colony 12, most meat was too hard to come by, apart from the illegal poaching trade that grew in the seam. He wasn't blessed with extraordinary physical abilities, so it wasn't a possible way for Alexander to make money. He usually wrote stories, but they rarely sold.

After all, who has time or money for stories when everyone was struggling to get food in the first place?

There was just a deficit of money. The coal mining wasn't bringing enough money into the colony, not when Colony 5 already provided cheap energy for the other colonies. The entire colony was struggling, and nobody in the colony had any way to get food, other than to buy it from the other colonies. Growing food in Colony 12 was nearly impossible. With so much money going out and nearly nothing coming in, the entire colony was in a state of destitution. There were so many ways that the problem could be fixed, but the Capitol was doing nothing about it. That was how the first pamphlet was born.

It was something Alexander had written by himself, essentially a rant piece on how the government should be run. John had found the piece, and thought it was brilliant. He helped Alexander edit it, publish it anonymously. Tons of people loved it, the pamphlet eventually getting to almost everyone in the colony. It was fine, until some loyalist decided to tell a redcoat about it. It was then officially against the law to publish or read the pamphlets.

Alexander didn't stop.

Neither did the people. There was soon an underground trade of pamphlets, everyone passing them around to each other. Alexander had an income, a way to live. It was perfect, until the redcoats had found out that Alexander and John were writing the pamphlets. 

He sighed, ripping off another piece of the raw meat and swallowing it, washing down the food with water. He continued with the routine, until he had eaten most of the squirrel. He buried the entrails away from the stream, sitting down across from the water, relaxing. The humid air wasn’t a problem anymore, and he had a way to survive the rest of the games. Just stay here, hold the ground.

Alexander let his mind wander to what would happen if another tribute showed up, maybe set off one of his traps. He didn’t want to kill anyone- that was still something that he didn’t think would solve anything. But would he let them down, then? Almost everyone here would probably kill Alexander instantly. He was one of their biggest threats, especially with a score of 11. 

He heard rustling in the distance and picked up his knife, entire body on full alert. He picked up his backpack. It could be the sound of another one of his traps being set off, or the sound of an animal. Either way, it would mean more food for later. Then again, it could also be another tribute. Alexander ducked behind a tree, craning his neck and trying to hear if there were any voices. He heard nothing, apart from the running water next to him.

In what might’ve been an extremely stupid decision, Alexander stood up and began walking towards the source of the noise. If there were no voices, chances were that the tribute was traveling alone. He wasn’t exactly sure what he would do if that were the case. He couldn’t kill someone else, and he couldn’t let them kill him, either. He walked closer, suddenly hearing a familiar voice above him.

“Hamilton,” it drawled. “Pleasure seeing you here.”

Alexander groaned, looking up. There was Thomas Jefferson, dangling from one foot. His arms were crossed, and there was a smile on his face. It was clear that talking was straining him, and the blood was rushing to his face.

“What’s up, darling?” he said, still slowly spinning in the air. His voice was saccharine, slow. It annoyed Alexander beyond measure. “Be a lamb, get me down, pretty please?”

“Why should I?”

Thomas scowled, looking down at Alexander. “‘Cause I asked?”

Alexander rolled his eyes. Thomas probably got everything he wanted just by asking. That’s how it always was in Colony 2. The people in the outer colonies were fighting every day for food, while everyone that was in cahoots with the Capitol got all the money and recognition. This, of course, meant that they had more sponsors in the games, which lead to them winning the games often. They would get to go home with more riches, making the colony wealthier, and the colony would spend more money on training the tributes. The tributes would win, and all of a sudden, the colony had more money. It was a sick and vicious cycle.

“Fuck you, Jefferson,” Alexander said, beginning to walk away.

“Really? After I helped you, Alexander?” Thomas asked. There was mock betrayal in his voice, but Alexander could tell that some of it was real. Jefferson had helped him, after all. With the knife throwing. The only thing that was giving Alexander a shot at winning. “Should’ve expected it.”

Alexander turned, throwing a knife at the rope that was holding Jefferson up. It split through the rope, hitting the tree behind it. Thomas fell, a yelp working a way out of his lips before he hit the forest floor. Alexander walked to pick up the knife, grasping it in his hand tightly. 

Just in case.

“Where’s the rest of your group?” Alexander asked, defensive. It made no sense for Thomas to be here, alone. 

“I came to look for water. They’re back at the cornucopia,” he said, eyeing Alexander’s knife. He stepped to the side, and Alexander compensated by side stepping as well, beginning to circle Thomas. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I have no reason to believe you,” Alexander said.

It was too late. Jefferson picked up the spear that he had dropped. The spear that Alexander hadn’t noticed. He mentally yelled at himself. How couldn’t he have noticed? There was no way that Jefferson, a career tribute, would go into the forest alone and without a weapon. 

And there was no way that he was getting out of this alive.

“What are you waiting for?” Alexander asked. “Kill me.” 

Thomas lowered the spear. “Nah.”

“Why? I’m your biggest threat, aren’t I?” Alexander asked, giving Thomas a confused look. His hand didn’t move from the knife in his hand.

“You wish,” Thomas scoffed. “Think of it as repayment for not keeping me dangling up there.”

“Wasn’t that repayment for you helping me?”

Thomas shrugged, beginning to walk towards the river.

“What about the rest of the careers, aren’t they going to be mad if you don’t kill me?”

“They don’t need to know,” Thomas said, nonchalant.

“But-”

“Do you want me to kill you?” Thomas asked, turning around to face Alexander. 

“No.”

“Okay, then shut up,” Thomas said, patting Alexander on the head. It was infuriating. “Which way’s the river, again?” 

Alexander pointed in the right direction, and Thomas began to walk, with Alexander following. He was about to step on another trap, but Alexander grabbed his arm, yanking him backwards. An irritated look passed Thomas’ face, until Alexander pointed to the trap. Thomas nodded. He pulled his hand away from Alexander, taking care not to set off the trap. They continued down the path towards the stream. As soon as they were at the edge of the rushing water, he pushed his backpack off, filling a few water bottles with the water from the river.

The cameras seemed to focus on Thomas and Alexander. Surely, there would be attention when there was someone from an outer colony working with one of the careers. It was literally unheard of. 

“Thanks, darling,” Thomas drawled, blowing Alexander a kiss and beginning to stalk away. Pretentious bastard.

“Wait, that's it?”

“D’ya want me to stay?”

“No.” A beat of silence.

Cannon blast.

It brought them back to reality.

“Then yeah, that’s it,” Thomas said, continuing to walk into the forest until he was out of Alexander’s field of vision. Alexander stood there for a few minutes, staring in the direction that Thomas had come from. 

Maybe Jefferson wasn't that bad, after all. Maybe Lafayette’s message of unity could actually work. Alexander turned back to the stream, watching the water running beneath him. He climbed into the tree after a while, boredom getting to him. As soon as the sky began to darken, he started to tie his sleeping bag into a tree the same way he had done before, working until the sky was dark. He filled the water bottle, dropping it in his bag and scaling the tree for the night. 

How many blasts had it been today? Two. That meant that there were twelve dead and eleven to go. 

Alexander sighed, curling into his sleeping bag, feeling the warmth getting reflected back. He would find John tomorrow. That was a good plan. He could return to the river whenever he needed to. 

The Capitol anthem began, reverberating around the arena. The sky lit up, the projected faces of the tributes flashing onto the screen. The tribute from Colony 7 that Alexander had seen this morning flashed across the sky. What was his name? Reynolds? Something like that. Killed by someone he was in an alliance with. It sent a shiver down Alexander’s spine.

Alexander looked up at the sky again, muttering a silent prayer that the next face that flashed across the screen wouldn’t be John. It wasn’t. It was the girl that Alexander had seen earlier this morning, the curls and the red lips and the smile illuminating the sky. He set his jaw, unsure of how to feel about the death. She had been one of the youngest in the games, around thirteen. Still, she had killed someone else in cold blood. Even the youngest of us aren’t innocent.

If she hadn’t been put in the situation where she had felt the need to kill someone, she could’ve been a good person. Alexander knew nothing about her. He knew next to nothing about all of these kids.

There was nothing he could do about it now, anyway. Still, his jaw set in determination. He would change the games or die trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the beginnings of Jamilton.  
> Also tons of exposition & happy stuff.  
> Not next chapter though :,)  
> Thank you guys for the comments and the help on the last chapter! It's going to affect what happens and I can't wait
> 
> HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY! I HOPE YOUR SKIN IS CLEAR AND YOUR GRADES GO UP!


	10. Alexander Hamilton Esclated A Rock Throwing Fight Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for a suicide attempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The return of our sunshine child, Lafayette (and John too but you guys seem to care more about Laf tbh)
> 
> Dedicated to my friend Parth. He's awesome. Thanks bro.

Alexander slept easy throughout the night, the promise of a new day and possible friendship coming to him. It seemed like it would all be perfect. Of course, this was before he felt the heat that forced him awake in the morning. His eyes shot open, looking around, seeing flames engulfing the area around him. It took him a few seconds to react, shimmying out of the sleeping bag, grabbing his backpack, and using the rope to swing down from the tree. He left behind one of him knives, too far away to go get it. As soon as he hit the ground, he began running.

The heat bit back at him, the fire licking at his heels as he ran through the dense forest. He risked looking back once and saw that the fire was only on his side of the river. The tall orange flames were clearly man-made. Gamemakers. Needed more drama in the games, probably.

The sleeping bag and the rope were left behind. Finding a place to sleep was going to be a problem for Alexander.

He turned around again, tears stinging at his eyes from staring at the bright blaze for too long. There was a cannon blast in the distance, another dead tribute. Alexander kept blindly running through the forest, trying to get as much space as possible between himself and the fire. The fire had been set at an extremely convenient place. It circled around to the left of Alexander, pushing him in a certain direction. That would mean that the gamemakers were trying to get him to a specific place. 

Or was it a person? Did they want to chase him directly into a group of people, and see what he would do?

Alexander began to slow down, trying to figure out another way out of the fire. He didn't get a chance to, as he was tackled to the ground by someone else. He hit the ground with a thud, letting out a yelp and tasting grass. 

"Alex!" the voice exclaimed. "Alex, it's me!"

Alexander turned around, looking up and seeing John Laurens on top of him, a grin on his face. Oh, the gamemakers wanted drama. Obviously. A love story.

"Laurens, pleasure seeing you here," Alexander replied, a flirtatious tone to his voice. He reached up to John’s back, pulling John into his chest and giving him a tight embrace. He leaned over to his ear, whispering one word. “Cameras.”

John nodded, letting out a giggle, as if Alexander has whispered something sweet into his ear. He stood up, holding out a hand for Alexander. Hamilton pulled himself up, using John’s hand as support. As soon as he was standing, he let go. A cannon blast sounded.

He motioned back towards the fire, pointing out the obvious danger. 

They both nodded, running in the same direction, working to get themselves away from the flames. John had been running with a limp. Alexander wanted to ask him how he had gotten the injury, but was too busy gasping for air. His muscles burned, and every breath, every movement took energy. Alexander had never run this much in his life. That, coupled with the work of climbing trees and the effort of sawing through knots, meant that every single muscle in his body was begging him to take a break. 

Alexander might not survive the games, but if he did, he was going to be fucking ripped. 

Soon enough, the fire died down behind them. Alexander leaned against a tree, panting heavily. John, who was usually the stronger of the two, was doing the same. He seemed to be in a worse shape then Alex. His hair was thrown messily around his head, dirt sticking everywhere. His lips were dry and cracked. The skin around his eyes had sunken in, and he had to keep blinking to keep his eyes wet. Alexander pulled out the water bottle from his backpack and handed it to John.

John immediately drank a few gulps, handing it back to Alexander. 

“Don’t let me drink more. We need to save the water,” he explained. “What’ve you been eating?”

“Raw squirrel,” Alexander replied, grimacing. He put the water bottle back into the backpack with the rest of the equipment.

“I found some berries, I’ve been living off of those. The problem is that they’re slightly poisonous. Fine to have when in small amounts, but they’re deadly as soon as you eat too much.” A sick grin passed John’s face. “Basically, I was slowly killing myself. Gotta hand it to the gamemakers for coming up with that one.”

Alexander snorted.

“Where’d you get the limp from?” Alexander asked. 

“Fell while running away from the cornucopia on the first day. It isn't that bad.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he said, exhaling. “Why did you run into the cornucopia? I thought you would die, you idiot.”

“I didn't die,” Alexander said. “Plus I got tons of equipment that's kept me alive this long.” He chuckled and shrugged. 

“You seem more relaxed than usual. You’re not doing the yelling at me, which I would think is a positive improvement,” John joked.

Had Alexander really seemed that different? He checked himself again, realizing that the smile on his face was real. Even if they were in the middle of the Hunger Games, he had John with him. It would be enough.

“Well, I almost died yesterday.” Alexander replied, shrugging. “S’pose it changed my worldview,”

"I'm glad it did. You look happier, if anything else," John said, smiling.

Alexander spent a few seconds grinning at John, before responding. "I think that we should find a shelter for the night. There's a ton of work to be done."

John nodded, and they began scouring the forest, looking for some place to stay. Both of them agreed that the trees wouldn't work, especially without the sleeping bags, and they would need to stay somewhere where they would be able to stay warm. Soon enough, they had found the perfect location in the form of a cave. It was a little chilly when they first went in, but it would stay at a constant temperature, which meant that they wouldn’t have to deal with the freezing air of the night. 

The sky was beginning to change colors, fading into a dark blue. John and Alexander had set up a few traps around the perimeter of the cave, both to get animals, or to get any tributes that attempted to sneak up on them. Alexander considered telling John about the interaction he had with Thomas, but it didn't seem like the best time. Maybe he could bring it up later. 

They settled into the cave together at the end of the day, both of them feeling starved. John's injury looked infected, and it was beginning to slow him down. 

“I know you said that your leg was fine, but it doesn't look fine,” Alexander said. 

“Doesn't look fine anymore,” John grumbled. Pus was draining out of the cut, and the wound still looked wet, despite it being open for nearly three days. It was beginning to look more like paint on a mixing plate instead of a clean cut. 

“Yeah, we really need something for your leg,” Alexander said. Why hadn't he figured out what types of plants were able to heal? It seemed like a stupid decision now. Obviously, one of them would get hurt. He should've known. 

“S’okay. I'll survive,” John said, voice weak. 

Alexander’s response was cut off by the sound of the Capitol anthem. He looked at John, who nodded back at him. Alexander walked out of the cave, focusing his eyes on the sky, where the names of the fallen tributes would be shown. There had been two cannon blasts, two dead tributes.

Alexander couldn’t recognize the first one, only saw a bald head flashing across the sky, a seven in the corner. The other tribute was from Laf’s colony, Hercules Mulligan.

The cold air bit at Alexander’s cheeks, but he still didn't go inside. There was something serene about the forest at night, the simulated stars in the sky. He heard John calling for him, and turned, sighing. They would probably take shifts for the night. It didn't seem like John would be able to run, though.

Alexander walked back inside, sitting next to John and sighing. 

“Who’s dead?” John asked.

“Boy from seven, and Hercules Mulligan,” Alexander stated.

There was a silence in the cave. Whether it was respect or just the uneasy feeling that accompanied any mention of death was uncertain.

“Your leg is infected,” Alexander said.

“I can live with it,” John replied, a dismissive tone to his voice.

“You need medicine, John,” Alexander said.

“You need to rest, Alexander. I’ll-”

“No, I think for once in our lives, you need rest more than I do. I’ll take first shift, wake you up as soon as I hear anything.”

John didn’t have the energy to dissent. Alexander smiled, kissing his forehead softly. It wasn’t for the cameras. Forehead kisses were something that they had always shared. It had helped through the losses in Alexander’s life. It had helped them through the losses in John’s life as well. There was something protective about them, and Alexander enjoyed the feeling. He smiled at John, who was already lazily closing his eyes. 

Alexander walked to the mouth of the cave, sitting down and entertaining himself by thinking about how he would have the government run. It seemed to be the only consolation to this entire situation. When he got out, he would have the opportunity to create change.

If.

If he got out.

He had forgotten to add that into the statement. He didn’t remember when his thinking changed from “never getting out” to “when I get out.” Maybe it was when Thomas didn’t kill him. Maybe it was when he found John again. Everything seemed to be looking up for once.

Then again, there can only be one survivor.

One of them would die in the end, anyway. And if it was going to be a choice between John and himself, Alexander would pick John in an instant. He let out a deep sigh, turning back to where John was now sleeping.

“Be right back,” he whispered, knowing that John wouldn’t hear him anyway.

He picked up a knife stepped outside, walking away from the cave, avoiding the traps. Just some fresh air, that’s what he needed. That’s what he was getting. Alexander wasn’t one to waste time wandering, and found himself looking for something to do. He could check if the river was still there, check how long of a walk it was.

The cave was in a secluded area anyway, nobody would find it. John would be safe. Alexander nodded to himself, almost trying to reassure himself that whatever he was saying was true. Why wouldn’t it be true? Everything had been going well so far. Alexander blamed the doubt on his unrelenting pessimism. It was nighttime on the third day. Everyone would be asleep, or the sleep deprivation would get to them. He would be fine. John would be fine.

With another nod to himself, he began walking away from the cave, towards the river. He just needed to clear his head. 

He walked through the familiar grounds, although most of them looked like what the forest would look like in a nightmare. He remembered a few of the trees, but now they were charred and burned by the fires of the morning. They looked the same, but more deadly, more desolate. It was unsettling.

The smell of ash was in the air. Alexander took a deep breath in. It reminded him of home, and all of the emotions associated with home. The sense of nostalgia didn't leave Alexander. He didn't want to go back to the colony, if he was being honest. Every time he thought of it, the bad memories would come flooding back. Sure, there were good times, but they were all spent with people who were gone. His father, as much as he hated to admit it. His mother. Even the few hazy memories that he had of his older brother seemed to be happy. He needed to find out what happened to him.

The only other happy memories were all with John, and with the thought came the realization that if he went home, he wouldn't be going home with John, anyway. What was the point, in the end? It would all end with one of them alone, harbinger of a revolution. At least John had something to fight for back home. Alexander had nothing.

He would likely never figure out what happened to his brother, anyway. Not when there was no way he was getting out of the arena.

There was the pessimism, back in full force. He chuckled darkly to himself, immediately beginning to worry about John, back at the cave. Whatever, he needed water, and he came his far. He would at least make it to the river. He stepped by the tree that he had spent the last night sleeping in. The charred remains of the sleeping bag and the rope were still there, a ghost of the calm he had felt yesterday.

A glint caught his eye by the river. It didn't make much sense, really. The undulating water was murky, incapable of the light that he saw shining from the direction of the river. He ran over, realizing what the glint was on the way there. It was the glint of a weapon. He couldn't see whether it was being aimed at him.

Alexander let out a yelp, hating himself right after he did it. The glint moved, the person was probably turning to Alexander. If they hadn't seen him before, they definitely knew where he was now. His senses kicked into overdrive, falling to the ground to make himself a harder target. He pulled out his knife, aiming directly at the flashing glint that he saw. At the very least, whoever it was would drop their weapon. He could probably run away after that. Sure, it would cost him a knife, but at least he would be able to get out of the situation safe. The chances of killing the person wielding the weapon were also incredibly slim. Their weapon would probably stop the momentum of Alexander's blade.

With this, he threw the knife, aiming directly at the glint of whatever blade it was. There was a clinking sound as the blades hit each other, and Alexander turned, ready to run, when he heard a familiar voice.

"Merde," it said, cracking in the middle. It was hoarse. Alexander turned to look at the source of the noise, the same person who was wielding the knife. Lafayette. Alexander ran over, wrapping his arms around him, unsure of what to say. It took a few seconds for Alexander's brain to catch up.

“Lafayette, you’re okay,” he said, sighing into his chest.

“I’m not, mon ami,” Lafayette said. Alexander looked up to see tears falling down Laf’s face. He reached his hand up, wiping them away.

“What happened?” Alexander asked. “If you’re okay with me asking, of course.”

“Hercules, he-” Lafayette collapsed against Alexander, his weight baring down on Alexander’s shoulders. Under normal circumstances, there was no way that Alexander would be able to hold him up. However, Laf looked malnourished and underfed. The shadows in his eyes spoke volumes. 

“Shh,” Alexander whispered, rubbing Lafayette’s back soothingly. “It’s going to be alright.”

“No, it’s not. He’s dead.”

“I know,” Alexander said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your pity, ami,” Lafayette said. “I want Hercules back.”

A silence passed between them, Alexander continuing to rub Lafayette’s back. It was the most he could do. Neither of them could bring back Hercules. Chances were that Mulligan’s body was already being shipped back to the colonies. Lafayette cried into Alexander’s shoulder, creating a wet patch. It caused Alexander to shiver whenever the cool night breeze flew by him. He looked up at Lafayette, not knowing exactly what to do.

What would Alexander want in this situation?

“Do you want to talk it out?” Alexander asked quietly. 

Lafayette shook his head. Of course he wouldn’t want to talk it out. Alexander was practically a stranger to him.

“Come with me, Laf,” Alexander said, dropping his hand back down, slipping it into Lafayette’s. Laf looked up at him.

“Why should I?”

“You need sleep. And food. I can get you at least one of those things, for now,” Alexander said. “I’ll get you some food in the morning, okay?”

Lafayette nodded weakly. Alexander began to walk back to the cave, Lafayette leaning on him. It was mostly silent, the cool forest air drifting around them lazily. Neither of them talked the entire way. The only sound was Lafayette’s sniffles and their feet crunching against the forest bottom. 

They had made it half the way there when Lafayette broke the silence.

“It’s my fault,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Hercules dying. It is my fault,” Lafayette said.

Alexander didn’t know how to react. There was no way to know whether he was blaming himself for no reason, or if he had actually done something to Hercules. Lafayette wouldn’t kill anyone, right? Especially from his own district.

Alexander was about to say something, maybe ask what happened, what Lafayette responded first.

"He was looking for food," Lafayette started. "We were both looking for food. I said to split up. We were hungry, we thought that we would be able to cover more ground that way."

He took a deep shuddering breath.

"It was a horrible mistake, Alexandre. I couldn't find him for the rest of the day. I kept looking. He was not anywhere," Lafayette choked out a sob. For once in his life, Alexander remained quiet. "And I thought that maybe he had survived. I thought that I would find him later on, or that he had maybe wandered off and lost his way. I was...wrong. He had his face in the sky. He is dead. And it is my fault. I did not mean for this to happen."

Alexander moved his arm to Lafayette's back, rubbing circles into his spine.

"I want to find that stupid tribute that killed him. Give them a taste of their own medicine," Lafayette seethed, the loathing and pain apparent in his voice. 

"It's not fair, Laf. But don't lose your morals," Alexander said softly. "You know why I liked you so much? You were the only person that actually wanted to try to cooperate. You're the only person who has been viewing me as a person and not as an enemy. Don't lose that part of you."

"I want to kill them, Hamilton," Lafayette asserted, his voice containing a terrifying edge. 

"Lafayette-"

"No. You don't know what I'm going through. Imagine if I killed John, then-"

Something snapped in Alexander. How could Lafayette bring it up so casually, like killing John was nothing to him? Were all these tributes secretly psychopaths anyway? Was the one person he actually thought was an ally, actually the same as the rest? It sent a shiver down Alexander's spine, and he gritted his teeth, stepping away from Lafayette and giving him a steely glare.

"Don't," Alexander said, looking directly at Lafayette. "Don't even say it. I thought you were a good person, Lafayette."

Lafayette swayed for a few seconds without Alexander's support, looking to him, dazed.

"I understand that you're hurt," Alexander started. "But that doesn't give you the fucking right to do that to me, okay? Not for a second."

Laf looked down, not responding for a few seconds. "You are right," he mumbled. 

There was a silence.

"I should have just killed myself when I had the chance."

So that's what Lafayette had been doing by the river, with the knife. Suicide. It seemed to pull everything into focus. For a second, Alexander can see himself saying it. See himself telling Lafayette that he should end it. That there's no reason to go on. That would make sense, wouldn't it? Both of them weren’t going to get out of there, and getting rid of Lafayette would help his own chances. It would be so easy. Done so fast.

Alexander snapped out of it, hating the side of him that had those thoughts in the first place. It was then that we realized that Lafayette had been having the same thoughts, directed at another tribute. That he had just succeeded in proving his point.

He sighed. 

“You are an amazing person, Lafayette. I’m sorry.”

“No, you were right. I’m a hypocrite.”

Alexander sighed. “You deserve sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

It was silent all the way back to the cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hercules Mulligan deserves more love. I'll write something on him soon. :,) 
> 
> I was in the middle of this chapter when I posted Chapter One. (Basically this is when I got enough courage to post it on the internet.)
> 
> Sorry this is a few hours late- School punched me in the face and I slept instead of updating whoooo


	11. Laf Shipped US Soil to France So That He Could Be Buried Under US Soil

The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Silently. The entire time, Alexander prayed that someone would attack them, or that a fire would start. It would be a lot better than whatever unsettling agreement had passed over them. John had slept through most of the night, needing the sleep. Alexander had stayed awake, reverting back to his habit of never sleeping until he dropped. Lafayette had fallen asleep multiple times, muttering in his sleep. It was slightly unsettling. Alexander didn’t know whether Laf was awake or asleep while he was talking, and ended up walking out to the base of the cave, away from Laf and John. 

Earlier, he had taken any of the weapons in the cave and placed them significantly away from Lafayette, so that Laf wouldn’t do anything. Multiple times throughout the night, the toxic thoughts came back to Alexander. He could get rid of Lafayette. The kid wanted to die, anyway. It would improve John’s chances of survival. The guilt followed the thoughts, and with the guilt came the anxiety, and soon enough, Alexander couldn’t even look at Lafayette without a pang of self-loathing.

So now he was at the entrance to the cave, looking out at the stars. The dawn was settling in, the sun rising up above the horizon. Lafayette was still murmuring behind Alexander, the soft noises sending pricks down Alexander’s spine as he remembered how vulnerable Lafayette looked, how easy it would’ve been.

Lafayette was the first to truly rise, sitting down next to Alexander and looking at the few remaining stars, the stars that still shined through the sun rising. Venus was ready to dip below the line of trees that outlined the horizon. It was peaceful, at the very least. The air had cleared up, the dewy morning promising new beginnings. The sound of animals in the nearby bushes reminded Alexander of the food that he should be having. The food he promised to Lafayette. 

Alexander stood up, going into the cave to get a knife. Sure, he had told John that he would wake him up for a night shift, but John needed the sleep way more than Alexander did. He gave John a quick lookover, wincing as he saw the pus and blood covering John’s leg. It made Alexander grimace, backing away. Food would probably help him fight the infection.

He gestured at Lafayette to follow him, still not saying a word. Lafayette seemed to look everywhere but Alexander’s eyes. They checked all the traps, and were rewarded with a rabbit and two squirrels. Not the most appetizing breakfast, but judging by the way Laf’s eyes widened and his mouth watered, it was a much needed meal.

Alexander stabbed the knife into one of the squirrels, wincing as it spasmed in pain before it died. It took him a few seconds to compose himself. He let out a sigh and used the knife to cut out a square of meat for Lafayette. They couldn’t wash it in the stream water, it was too far away. Lafayette shrugged, putting the piece of meat, blood included, into his mouth. His face scrunched up as he swallowed, coughing a few times. He gestured for Alexander to give him more, and Alexander carved his knife through the squirrel a few more times.

He buried the skin under a pile of leaves. 

Neither of them said anything the entire time. Alexander, mostly because he didn’t know the right words, for once in his life. There were so many questions he wanted to ask. So many questions he wanted answered. And he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would say the wrong thing, and Lafayette would leave. That seemed worse than anything else.

Alexander remembered his words from yesterday, we’ll talk in the morning.

Yeah, right.

Lafayette would only give Alexander guilty looks, opening his mouth to say something, but never finishing the thought. Alexander wanted to yell at him, ask him what it was that was so hard to say. He didn’t, and he was glad he still had that shred of self-control.

Through another unspoken agreement, Lafayette took the animals back to the cave, Alexander stabbing each of them once and whispering a small apology to himself. Alexander went back around the perimeter, setting up the traps again. A few minutes had passed, but the crickets had died down and the sun had shot above the line of trees in a fiery blaze, reminding Alexander that he needed to start the day.

He turned away from the forest, walking back to the secluded cave, shielding them from the intense and watchful glare of the sun. It was going to be a hot day.

It only seemed to occur to Alexander now that he had no plan. He wanted to get out of the games. Well, he wanted John to get out of the games. Only one of them could get out, anyway. He also didn’t want to kill anybody. The messed up logic behind it seemed to hit Alexander. If he wasn’t killing them, they were still dying. He was just as bad as every other tribute on the playing field.

What he needed was a way to save the people who were in the games. Simply not killing others was not going to help, especially when they were being hunted by every other tribute. Even if he wasn’t the one to kill them, he would be the one to let them be killed. Alexander needed a way to save the remaining tributes.

He walked into the cave, seeing John staring at Lafayette with pure hatred. Alexander looked between the two of them for a few seconds. The rabbit and the squirrel were on the floor by their feet. Lafayette turned over to Alexander with a blank expression, shrugging his shoulders.

“Hamilton. A word,” Laurens said, moving his glare to Alexander.

John never used Alexander’s last name unless he was really mad. Alexander tried to come up with an explanation before John even asked the question. He had forgotten how John viewed their potential alliance with Lafayette. Laf had gotten the clue and was sitting by the entrance to the cave, pretending to keep watch. Alexander knew that Lafayette would almost certainly be attempting to listen.

“John, hear me out,” Alexander started.

“No, I said that we’re not having alliances, Alexander,” John said, looking Alexander in the eye.

“What makes you the authority on that matter?” Alexander asked pointedly. “He needed help. I’m helping him.”

“You’re hurting yourself.”

Alexander lowered his voice, hoping that the cameras wouldn’t pick it up as he leaned into John. “You’re just playing into everything they want you to play into. They’re pitting the tributes against each other. If we start getting alliances between colonies, wouldn’t that help our situation? Laf isn’t going to kill anybody, okay?”

“And how do you know that?”

“I trust him,” Alexander said. “Please trust me on this.”

John groaned. “Fine. The moment he does something wrong, he goes, okay?”

Alexander nodded, deciding that this was as good a time as any to bring up his plan to unite all of the remaining tributes. He opened his mouth, but was cut off by Lafayette grabbing his shirt and pointing outside. There were two tributes there, scoping the area. Alexander picked up the rabbit and the squirrel, dropping it in his bag so that they would be able to eat it later.

He handed a knife to John and one to Lafayette, hesitating for less than a second. Lafayette still seemed to notice the tiny flinch Alexander had before handing him the knife. He seemed to notice everything. They were ready to run if they needed to, but Alexander wasn’t sure that John would be able to make it very far on foot because of the infection in his leg. John was already wincing as he walked to the front of the cave, pressing himself against the wall.

The other tributes still hadn’t seen them yet. There was a chance that the tributes would just pass without paying any mind to the cave underneath them. Alexander’s sense of security shattered as one of them ran up to the cave, walking in. It was a girl, long straight hair falling messily over her face. She was carrying a bow, but she didn’t have any arrows. The first person she made saw was Lafayette. He towered over her, and she stepped back, scared.

“Eliza, is it a good place to stay in there?”

Lafayette shook his head, silently. Eliza wasn’t ready for a fight. There was no way that she would win against Lafayette alone, and she still hadn’t noticed Alexander and John. The odds were stacked against her. It only took her a second to realize the situation.

“Liz?” the voice called again. 

She turned around, walking out of the cave as if nothing happened.

“There are spiky plants covering most of the floor, we can’t sleep there,” she called back, nodding quickly at Lafayette before running out.

At the very least, they weren’t the only tributes that were avoiding violence. The gears in Alexander’s mind continued to turn. Eliza would probably join the alliance. That was four people. How many were still alive? Eleven. Four out of eleven seemed like too little for a rebellion. Still, Eliza had been working with someone. That would make five, if the other person, probably her sister, also agreed to join the alliance. It didn’t seem like it would be too hard to convince the sisters, since the chance that they were happy with the idea of only one of them surviving was slim. 

The hardest people to convince would probably be the careers. Their districts were the ones closest to the Capitol. It would be hard to convince them to rebel. The plan seemed to crumble apart as the thought hit Alexander. There was no way that the people already in their alliance would trust the careers, either.

Besides, the gamemakers would be able to pick off their alliance one by one anyway. What was the point? The footsteps receded outside, and everyone in the cave let out a sigh of relief, peeling themselves off of the walls.

“That was close,” John said quietly. He looked over at Lafayette, who flinched, looking away. John walked over, limping because of his leg. He held out a hand to Lafayette. “John Laurens, don’t think we’ve met.”

An invitation to start over.

Lafayette took John’s hand, a grin eclipsing his face. “Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, at your service.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” John said, overdramatically bowing. He imitated the Capitol accent, matching Lafayette’s smile.

“No, the pleasure is mine, mon cher,” Lafayette said, pressing a kiss to John’s hand. John let out a little giggle, and they all laughed. At the very least, they had each other for now. Alexander hoped that the Capitol broadcast what had just happened. Friendships within colonies was rare. Even the careers only got by because they needed each other, but they had no problem killing each other in the end. The only way that they stood a chance against the Capitol was if the colonies were able to unite against the government.

There were so many things that everyone in the arena could be planning. After all, they were all being broadcast to the entire nation. Almost everyone in the colonies was watching. Paine and Laurens and Mercy were right. They were on the largest stage, performing for everyone. Their voice was being heard. The root of the problem was that they weren't able to do anything. The gamemakers could kill them if they wanted.

It was honestly a miracle that Laurens and Alexander had stayed in the running this long. They were from the outer districts, nobody cared about them. They were also the two people who were blamed for the pamphlet fiasco. The Capitol had the chance to take them out publicly, and they hadn't taken that chance. Maybe the odds were in their favor.

This would be so much easier to plan if Alexander could contact Mercy and Paine, who were working on brewing the rebellion outside of the arena. It would also be a lot easier if he were able to speak about it openly, but the stupid cameras were in the way. The cameras that recorded their every movement, sending it to the Capitol. The cameras that betrayed them at every turn. Nothing was a secret during the games.

If Alexander was able to take the cameras out, this would be a lot easier to plan. He could talk openly with the other tributes, get them to join him in the fight against the Capitol. If they were able to turn the cameras back on after everything had been planned out, they would be able to speak to the entire nation, without the Capitol breathing down their necks.

Sure, if the cameras were going to be online, the Capitol would see. But so would the colonies. If they planned it out, they would be able to spark everything the right way. The problem was coming up with a good way to do it.

Also, figuring out a way to turn off the cameras.

If there was someone who would know how to hijack the cameras, they would probably be from Colony 5, the district that worked with energy. A plan began to brew in Alexander’s mind. He looked to John and Laf, walking over and whispering so that the microphones wouldn’t pick them up.

“Is there anyone from Colony 5 still alive?” he asked. Alexander knew that someone from Colony 5 had died at the cornucopia, but had both of them died? He was beginning to lose track of who was alive and who was dead.

John spoke up. He seemed to be the only person who was able to keep track of everything that was going on.

“Yes, Benjamin Franklin,” he whispered back, a confused expression crossing his face. “Why?”

“D’ya think he would help us take down the cameras?” Alexander asked.

John opened his mouth, an unreadable expression on his face. He was cut off by Lafayette, and Alexander was grateful. The last thing he needed was John to be mad at him for something else.

“I would think so, he seemed nice. You have more allies than you think, Alexandre.”

John looked up at Lafayette, raising an eyebrow. They were silent for a little bit.

“Don’t want them to get suspicious,” he whispered, before stepping away. He spoke again, louder this time. “What’s the plan for today?”

They would probably talk about Ben Franklin later.

“Well, we cannot do much while your leg is looking like that,” Lafayette said, gesturing to John’s leg with an open hand. “We should find a way to heal it.”

Alexander thought for a second. The best bet they had was going to the cornucopia, where all the supplies were. The problem was that the careers would also be there, supposing they hadn’t moved camp.

“The cornucopia probably has some disinfectant,” Alexander said, a careful tone in his voice. “If we manage to raid it, we could actually get some weapons, as well.”

The subtle nod that Lafayette gave Alexander was enough to show that he had clearly been thinking about that too. All they currently had were the three knives that Alexander had managed to get. The rope was running out, most of it having been used to make traps. Alexander had abandoned his sleeping bag. It was anyway charred beyond recognition. They also had one water bottle between the three of them. They weren’t going to survive long on whatever they had. 

John saw the look passed between Laf and Alexander, and he let out a small sigh. Neither of them were going to let him die. If they didn’t do something about the leg, all three of them would be in danger. John would die if the infection progressed.

“Well, we don’t really have a choice, do we?” John asked. 

Alexander smiled.

Things were finally looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late again. I'm blaming it on life.  
> Also in anything angsty, when it says "things were finally looking up," it means shit's about to go down.  
> Give it two chapters and you'll all be mad at me.  
> :D


	12. Alexander Told John To Tell The Ladies About The Size Of His...Nose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happened because of peer pressure.  
> You're welcome, Alessandra.

Alexander, John, and Lafayette spent the rest of the day planning an attack on the careers. If they wanted this to work in the right way, they would have to have everything planned and ready before they went charging in. The careers were known to be ruthless.

The current plan had John acting as a distraction. Alexander had hated the idea at first. Having the weakest person in the most vulnerable position seemed stupid, but both John and Laf agreed that it was the best choice. They planned to use the landmines around the platforms from the beginning of the games. If John could figure out a way to set them off, the careers would be busy focusing on whatever had set off the landmines instead of on the supplies. Alexander and Lafayette would then attempt to sneak in and steal whatever supplies they could. There was an unspoken agreement that they would have to kill if it got to that point.

Against Alexander's will, they had also made an agreement to leave someone behind if worst came to worst, and the person wasn't able to escape. It was better than risking all of their lives, they had rationalized. Alexander had said that they would have a better chance of surviving as a whole if they didn't leave anyone behind. Still, the agreement had been made. Arguing wasn't getting anywhere, and John needed the medicine.

Alexander went through the list of supplies that they would like. First on the list, medicine. It was the first priority. If nothing else, they would get the medicine. Second, more weapons. Lafayette could use a bow and arrow, which was a good bet. John was okay with most of the weapons, but he had a lot of arm strength. There were a ton of weapons that he would be able use to his advantage.

There was a stagnant silence over all of them as they were getting ready, none of them saying anything. There was too much to be said. If the words started, they wouldn’t stop. Then the tears would start, and soon enough, they wouldn’t be getting anywhere. Alexander sighed, offering to get water for all of them before they went to the cornucopia. Lafayette nodded, and Alexander set off on his way to the stream, wanting to clear his head.

Alexander began to take the familiar walk through the charred forest to the river. The ash underneath his feet and inside of his nostril reminded him of the death that was present all around him. It was sobering, to say the least. It kept him in the present. 

Soon enough, he heard the familiar sound of the trickling water. Alexander let out a small sigh, dropping down and filling up a water bottle for John and Laf, and washing his face with some of the cold water. He cupped his hands and slurped as much water as possible.

“Hamilton, pleasure seeing you here,” someone behind him said. Alexander stiffened for second, his brain taking a few seconds to recognize the voice. He relaxed as soon as he realized who it was.

“Jefferson,” Alexander acknowledged, not turning to face him. It seemed weird that they were so comfortable around each other, especially since they were supposed to be enemies. They were supposed to be killing each other. Still, they seemed to have formed their own type of alliance, neither one doing anything to the other. 

Jefferson sat down next to Alexander, filling up his own water bottles. 

“So, how was your day?” he drawled.

“It’s still morning, idiot,” Alexander responded with a sharp tone. “Nothing has happened.”

“Well, I got into an argument first thing this morning, so my team probably hates me,” Thomas said, shrugging. He closed the last water bottle, dropping them all into his bag. He didn’t make any type of effort to stand up. Instead, he leaned back on his hands, looking into the sky. There wasn’t a hint of mirth when he spoke again. “They’re probably going to kill me first.” 

Jefferson let out a dark laugh, looking down into the water, mirroring Alexander. The water rushed underneath them, and they both stared for a while. Alexander wanted to say something. Maybe ask about what had happened, maybe try to comfort Thomas. They were friends, right? In some really weird messed up way, at least. It seemed to be the right thing to do, and he opened his mouth to say something.

Alexander closed it almost immediately, the realizing that whatever they had going on was probably going to be gone the second Alexander stepped onto his territory at the cornucopia. Thomas would place his loyalty to the careers above whatever relationship he had with Alexander, and Alexander would be dead in an instant. Whatever they were doing now wouldn’t matter in the end.

Instead, Alexander began to stand up, getting ready to leave. He had everything he wanted, anyway. Well, almost everything. It seemed harsh, but an alliance would cost the both of them in the end. It was better to end it now.

“Wait,” Thomas hissed, tackling Alexander to the ground.

Alexander yelped as he went down. He was about to yell, but Thomas clapped one of his hands onto Alexander’s mouth. This was it, it was over. 

He didn’t notice the arrow that sailed above him until it embedded itself in a tree behind them with a twang. The arrow shivered in place, and Alexander was shaking just as much as the arrow was. 

Thomas had saved him. 

“Did you get him?” a voice asked. It was a girl.

Alexander didn’t have time to hear the response before Jefferson wrapped his fingers around Alexander’s wrist, pulling him up and beginning to bound through the forest. Alexander struggled to keep up with Jefferson’s long strides. He was panting heavily by the time Jefferson stopped. 

There was another silence between them as they both tried to catch their breath. Thomas was the first to speak.

“Are you okay?” Thomas asked, giving Alexander a concerned expression. Alexander nodded, surprised. He took a few more seconds to slow his breathing to a point where he could speak. 

“Why,” Alexander took a deep breath in. “Why do you care?” 

Thomas shot him an annoyed look, changing the concerned expression almost immediately. He let out a tiny scoff.

“I don’t. Don’t flatter yourself, darling,” Thomas said, the snark returning in an instant, along with his usual dismissive aura. He waved a hand carelessly at Alexander, beginning to walk in the direction of the river. Alexander ran after him, grabbing his arm.

“Wait,” Alexander said.

“What is it?” Thomas asked, turning around and raising an eyebrow. Alexander could see the slightly hopeful gaze in his eyes, but he was probably just imagining it.

“Thanks,” Alexander responded. Thomas nodded, and Alexander could see a tiny smile creeping onto his lips.

Thomas turned around again, heading for the river. Alexander realized that he had left his own water bottles there, but decided that going back in the direction of the river would be awkward, and more importantly, dangerous. He would just get back to camp and tell Lafayette and John that he was attacked and had to run, and that was why he had left the water bottle behind. Mentioning Thomas would probably be disastrous.

Alexander made it back to camp, and the fact that he wasn’t carrying water didn’t seem to alarm everyone, since both Lafayette and John were focusing completely on the plan and only the plan. They were hunched together at the mouth of the cabin, coming up with random scenarios, deciding what to do in those scenarios. They didn’t even seem to notice the fact that Alexander had come back.

He didn’t mind anyway, ducking inside the cave and listening to their conversations, staying silent for once. There wasn’t much he could say, anyway. Even thinking about what they were going to do was filling Alexander with dread. Because now Alexander owed Thomas, and that feeling was tugging at his gut. Attacking Thomas’ base was probably one of the worst things to do in this situation.

Alexander contemplated whether he should’ve warned Thomas about the attack, and realized that he would then be endangering John and Lafayette. That was also a stupid option. At the very least, he doubted that Thomas would die. He could probably protect him in some way if worst came to worst. He doubted that it would, hoping that the instructions he had given Laf and John to not kill anyone would carry through.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to adhere to the rule of leaving someone behind.

It seemed heartless to him, but John and Lafayette hadn’t batted an eye, as if this was what would be expected, anyway. As if this was normal. 

And it probably was. Alexander was the black sheep in this case, singled out by his need to not kill anyone. That’s when the thoughts of yesterday came back to him. Even if he wasn’t killing anyone, they were all going to die by the end of the games. There would only be one winner. Sitting around preaching pacifism wasn’t doing anything.

Alexander barely noticed John and Lafayette getting up, and he scrambled to do the same. He had zoned out of their conversation, and now completely regretted that decision. They were both looking at him expectantly, and he just nodded, unsure of what to do.

It seemed to be the right thing to do, because they began to walk outside. The skies had turned gray, and Alexander could feel the humidity in the air. Still, the rain hadn’t begun to fall. He took a deep breath in, slowing himself, following John and Laf.

“Could Alexander and I have a moment? We’ll catch up with you,” John said. Lafayette gave him a knowing look and nodded, walking ahead at a quicker pace. Alexander raised an eyebrow.

John waited until they were in silence before he spoke again.

“Are you alright?” John asked.

Alexander shrugged, not really knowing the answer to that question. John stepped closer, pushing a strand of Alexander’s hair away from his face. They were standing toe-to-toe now, and Alexander was looking up at Laurens, caught in his eyes.

“Alexander, listen. I know that we haven’t been as close as we usually are, thanks to the shit that’s been going on with the games,” John said. “But if it’s my last chance, I want to tell you something.”

Alexander could feel his spine tingling, and red rushing to his cheeks. He nodded.

John looked away again, before meeting Alexander’s eyes. “I love you.”

Alexander grabbed John’s shirt with a hand, pulling him closer and crashing his lips against John’s. He felt John relax against him, and he broke away for a second.

“I know.”

John moved his hands to Alexander’s back, pushing them closer together, before connecting their lips again, softer this time. Alexander wrapped his arms around John’s waist, the smell of John mixing with the smell of the forest. They broke apart again, staring at each other for a few seconds.

“Lafayette is probably waiting for us,” John said softly, his eyes still lingering on Alexander’s lips.

Alexander nodded, stepping away from John and missing the warmth almost instantly. He was still flustered, and couldn’t come up with the right words to say. John seemed to understand, though. John always seemed to understand. 

He leaned over, pressing a sincere kiss to Alexander’s cheek.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, but a lot of shit happens in the next chapter.
> 
> I can't write romance for life.


	13. Hamilton's Last Letter To Laurens Asked Him To Come Home And Help In Congress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas, you absolute tank engine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote most of this in math class.  
> You can feel math class dripping into the writing.
> 
> TW for blood and death

They were standing on a hill overlooking the cornucopia. All the supplies were in one giant pile, as if the careers were taunting those who needed the supplies. The pile towered over its surroundings, at least a few feet tall. It glittered in the sunshine, a pile of diamonds and riches taunting them. 

That’s when they noticed the first problem in their plan. Lafayette was the first to see it: The mines that had originally been planted around the platforms had been dug up. There were little holes around each of the original platforms, little brown dimples in the ground, where the landmines had been planted.

Laurens realized the next part: The mines had been reburied around the pile of supplies. It was hard to see at first, but after a looking where John had asked, the little mounds of dirt became more obvious. It was a trap. Of course it was. If someone were to step on any of the mines on the way to the supplies, they’d get blown up. It was a smart idea.

“They have planned for us,” Lafayette said. “Are you sure that-”

“We need the medicine for John,” Alexander insisted, a determined look on his face. He looked up to Lafayette, almost daring him to challenge the fact.

“We’re not going to get further into the games if we don’t get more supplies,” John said. “We can’t just turn back now.”

Lafayette nodded, the corners of his mouth curling downwards in a grimace. Still, he didn’t say anything. John held out his hand, and Alexander held out a knife. He took it from Alexander, gripping it in his hands, knuckles turning white. His eyes flickered up to Alexander’s, and they looked at each other for a few seconds, the gaze explaining everything.

“I’m going to go,” John said, voice quiet. “Good luck.”

“See you on the other side?” Alexander asked, remembering what Mercy had said. There was always the other side.

“See you on the other side,” John said. His gaze moved down and he leaned into Alexander’s lips for a quick kiss. “I love you.”

Alexander nodded, tears pushing at his eyes. He knew that the moment he opened his mouth, he would begin to cry. Something burned at the back of his throat.

“Love you,” Alexander choked out. 

John placed his hand around the back of Alexander’s head, pulling him in for another kiss on the forehead. He looked up at Lafayette. 

“Take care of him, okay?” John said.

“Nonsense. You will be back, and you can take care of him,” Lafayette said, waving his hands carelessly. Alexander could see right through it. The movements were stiffer than they usually were. “There is no reason to cry.”

John nodded, stepping away from Alexander. 

They all exchanged glances with each other, waiting for someone to say something, waiting for someone to break the silence that was growing between them. There were no other words spoken. A determined look crossed John’s face, and he offered Alexander a smile. He turned, and began to weave through the trees, circling around to another side of the clearing.

The sound of distant thunder and the chirping of birds was the only thing that filled the silence that followed the crunching footsteps that were beginning to fade out into the distance.

A thousand unsaid words pushed at Alexander’s lips. All the things he could’ve said, all the things he should’ve said, everything he didn’t. It all weighed on him now as he watched John’s running form. He bit his lip. He would be able to tell him after this entire thing was over. They just needed to get the medicine for John. It would be over soon. Lafayette placed a reassuring arm on his shoulder, and Alexander let out the breath he had been holding.

They began to advance down the hill, the trees beginning to thin out as they reached the clearing. The sky had finally seemed to get the message that it was time to rain, and a light drizzle bounced off of the trees and fell to the ground. The cool drops on Alexander’s back were soothing.

They kept walking until they were close enough to hear the voices of the careers, and Alexander could hear Thomas amongst them, his heart jumping a little bit at the sound. At the very least, they had been friends. How would he feel about Alexander attacking him? Alexander bit back the pang of guilt that followed the thought.

Alexander and Lafayette hid themselves behind trees, waiting for the first mine to go off. Now that the mines were around the supplies, there was a much smaller margin of error- but John would pull through. John would always pull through. That was the one thing that he had always been best at.

Sure enough, the blast sounded a few seconds later. Alexander heard the deep voice that followed, George Washington’s. 

“Split up! They wouldn’t have come alone.”

The plan shattered.

John, Laf, and Alexander had planned for most of the careers to run towards the noise- figure out who had set off the mine. Instead, the careers were splitting up. They were outnumbered. There was almost no way to get through.

Alexander looked at Lafayette with wide eyes, hesitating for a second. John had followed through with his part of the plan. There was no way that Alexander was going to let John put himself in danger for no reason. He began to run out into the field, completely ignoring Lafayette, who was shaking his head behind him.

It didn’t matter. He needed to get the medicine for John.

The rain began to pour as Alexander rushed out into the clearing, the trees no longer protecting him. Water was dripping off of him within a few seconds. His spine was chilled, and the smell of the forest was in his nose. He shivered a little bit as he began to run forward. John was fighting both George Washington and John Adams, using a scythe that he had picked up from the pile of supplies. He seemed to be doing a good job, slowly leading them away from Alexander and Lafayette. 

Thomas was on the other side of the clearing, still trying to find them. Alexander turned to see James Madison behind him, beginning to run towards him. Laf stepped in front of Alexander, in between him and James Madison.

“I will worry about him. You go,” he said, giving Alexander a push towards the supplies. Alexander nodded, beginning to maneuver his way through the mines towards the mountain of supplies. He could see the medicine, the tiny silver cannister with what they needed. It was jutting out of the side of the pile, right at arm level. It was begging to be taken.

Thomas stayed away from them, only just realizing what was happening. His gaze flickered from the pile of supplies to Lafayette and Madison, to Alexander, to John, Washington and Adams. He began to run over from where he was.

Lafayette was behind Alexander, pushing Madison away as much as possible. It wasn’t going well. All that Lafayette had was a lousy knife. It was nothing compared to the large scythe that Madison was holding. Laf was focused more on distraction than injuring him, anyway. He seemed to be completing his goal, and Madison continued to back away from Alexander and the supplies.

It all changed in an instant, Lafayette’s foot catching onto his ankle as he tried to step away from Madison. He fell, his hands making desperate circles in the air as he dropped onto his behind, groaning and breathing heavily.

“Do you want to go the same way as your friend? Scythe through the neck?” Madison taunted.

Lafayette’s face suddenly hardened at the mention of Hercules. He grabbed on to the scythe, standing up and kicking Madison in the knee, causing him to crumple and let go of the weapon. Lafayette scrambled to his feet, picking up the weapon. There was anger in his eyes, and he held the scythe towards Madison. A thunderclap permeated the air, and Alexander could see the fear in the eyes of James Madison as he stared up at Lafayette.

Helpless.

James was only a child. They all were.

“Va te faire foutre,” Lafayette said, hooking the scythe behind Madison’s neck.

Alexander was about to scream at him not to do it.

He was too late.

Blood. 

Death.

Cannon blast.

Alexander turned away, back to the medicine, not wanting to see the blood and death that was behind him. He was about to reach the cannister, his fingers grazing the smooth, cool surface of the jar. 

“Alexander!” It was an all-too important, and all-too familiar voice. Alexander turned to his left, seeing John beginning to lose his footing in the fight against Washington and Adams. It was inevitable. The careers had always been better than all of them. “Help!”

It didn’t even take a second of thought. Alexander abandoned the cannister, beginning to run towards John, ignoring the mines that were on the ground. He was a few feet away, about to throw his knife at George Washington, before he was suddenly rammed into the pile of supplies by another person. 

Thomas Jefferson. He had completely forgotten him.

Alexander lifted his hand, about to stab the knife at Jefferson. He needed to get to John, needed to save John. Thomas noticed the hand, and he grabbed Alexander’s wrist, pinning it against the mountain of supplies roughly. He gave Alexander a warning look, and Alexander tried to kick him, failing miserably.

“You were-” Thomas started, giving Alexander a hurt look.

“Let me the fuck go, Jefferson,” Alexander sneered, eyes narrowing as he glared at Jefferson.

Cannon blast. 

Alexander let out a quick breath in surprise, turning towards John’s last position, forgetting about Jefferson for a second. And there he was- smiling at Alexander. There was a large bloodstain on John’s chest, blossoming outwards like a firework as more blood began to pour out. He stayed upright for a few seconds, the smile staying on his face as he swayed in place. Gravity finally caught up, and he hit the floor. Face down.

No.

A blast of strength- adrenaline, probably, he didn’t care- surged through Alexander, and he shoved Thomas off of him. Jefferson stumbled backwards, reaching forward and grabbing a burlap sack full of apples from the pile of supplies in an attempt to regain his balance. Instead, the sack slid out of the pile, hitting the grass with Thomas.

Nothing happened for a second, until the entire pile came toppling down behind Alexander. Weapons and food and supplies began to crash onto the the ground. Something, somewhere, hit a mine. Alexander’s senses sharpened the moment he heard the blast. Then, there was another. And another. And another. 

The explosions were getting closer. 

Alexander could barely hear anything through the dirt and the dust that was being kicked up in clouds all around him. It was then that he realized that Thomas had saved him, again. Even after what Alexander had done.

Alexander’s ears began to ring as the explosions got closer. A mine exploded right next to him, throwing a bunch of supplies his direction. He blinked the dust out of his eyes, tears beginning to well up. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. John wasn’t supposed to die. He let out a scream, the guttural noise cutting through the air as he collapsed onto his knees. He didn’t care if he was going to be blown away. There was no point.

Everything was going wrong. John couldn’t be dead.

John couldn’t be dead.

John was dead.

John was-

An arm hooked around Alexander’s waist, pulling him up. He fought it at first, thrashing in place. It didn’t last long as another mine went off close to Alexander, and he slumped into the arms of whoever was carrying him, not wanting to fight it. It didn’t seem to matter. He had ruined everything.

Alexander slumped into the arms, his world blasting into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay you probably hate me but you should've read the signs,,,,it's chapter THIRTEEN. It's 2016 words long. We all know about 2016. It was bound to go wrong. 
> 
> Also the French translates to "fuck you"


	14. Thomas Jefferson Once Got A 1,235 Pound Cheese Wheel As A Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a panic attack
> 
> I cried while writing this

“Promise you’ll be there for me?” There was a pause. “Forever?”

The voice was young, cracking in the middle. Alexander could hear the tears threatening to fall just by listening to the voice. It had a sort of familiarity. He had heard it before, he just didn’t know where. It was distant, clouded, full of raw emotion.

“Of course,” assured someone else. “Don’t give up.”

Alexander knew that voice instantly. John Laurens. His eyes widened, the memory of the day hitting him suddenly, color bursting all around him. He opened his eyes to see John cuddled next to him, his body warming him up. His mother had died. Everyone was gone. Except for John. 

Laughter fell out of Alexander’s lips, a tinkling sound that he hadn’t heard in a while.

Cannon blast.

Then it was over.

Alexander awoke on the cold ground, feeling something jutting into his back at the worst place. He shifted uncomfortably. Sure, his bed sucked, but it wasn’t this bad. He carefully opened his eyes, looking up and seeing a ceiling of rock above him. The morning light lazily drifted in, casting terrifying shadows against all the walls. The musty smell wafted into his nose, and he blinked a few times, trying to put himself in the right spot.

It felt as if someone had put glue on his eyelids. They were extremely stiff, and his eyes felt dry. Alexander screwed them shut, trying to find the motivation to get up.

“John?” he asked, sleepily. That was the last voice he remembered, the last thing that he had heard. 

“Non, mon ami.”

Alexander rubbed his eyes, pushing himself up. His back complained with the movement, a shooting pain traveling down his spine. There was distant ringing in one of his ears. 

“What?” Alexander asked, finally opening his eyes. The walls of a cave loomed back at him, the forlorn gray plaguing his vision everywhere he looked. The view of the despondent rock was obscured by a face, looking at him inquisitively.

It took Alexander a few seconds.

Hunger Games.

Lafayette.

Cave.

“Are you okay?” Lafayette asked, the concerned look remaining on his face. 

Where was John?

Alexander nodded. “Just give me a few seconds. Where’s-”

His brain supplied him with the information.

Medicine.

Cornucopia.

Explosion.

“No,” Alexander whispered, closing his eyes, trying to wake up. This was just another part of his messed up dream. John couldn’t be-

Lafayette snaked his arm around Alexander’s back, pulling him closer, trying to calm him down. He ran his hand through Alexander’s hair, whispering reassurances. Alexander blinked a few times, letting out a cry of anguish as his surroundings didn’t change.

“No,” he repeated, his voice cracking as he tried to wrap his head around it. John was gone. No. John was always there, was always the one force in Alexander’s life that never changed, even as everyone else left him. John was the only reason he was still alive. John was the only reason he hadn’t ended himself. John was always going to be there. He had promised to always be there.

No.

The reality hit him again, and he curled into himself, burying his head in his knees. It was the same thing he had done after his father left. After his mother died. After his cousin ended it.

And John had been there every time.

The tears finally managed to fall, the weight in the back of Alexander’s throat increasing. He took a breath in, shuddering as he let it out, trying to keep his breathing even.

What was the point?

Each breath was harder than the last, shallower. The air wasn’t even getting to his head anymore, and he hugged himself tighter, wanting to shrink and disappear and never return. He felt Lafayette’s hand on his, and yanked it off, backing away from Lafayette.

John had called for Alexander’s help. He should’ve been there for John. The guilt hit him, mixing with whatever indescribable feeling was in the pit of his stomach, creating an acidic precipitate that was threatening to burn through the little bit of Alexander that was left.

The worst part was that he could’ve been there.

Alexander could’ve saved John, if it weren’t for Thomas fucking Jefferson.

He wanted to do nothing more than to skewer Thomas, watch the life fade out of him the same way it had happened to John. 

John’s smile as he fell was forever imprinted in Alexander’s memory. It would never leave. Every time he let his mind wander, the image was back, every single one of John’s pure white teeth on his too-big smile, perfect and beautiful, haunting and deadly. 

Alexander let another sob escape. It would be the last one. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, looking up at Lafayette with anger flashing in his eyes.

“I’m going to find them, and I’m going to kill them. I’m going to kill them all.”

Lafayette looked at him, eyes wide with guilt. He shook his head vigorously.

“They fucking deserve it. You know what? I understand now. I understand what you said earlier when you said that you wanted to hunt-”

“Non,” Lafayette said, voice soft. “It is a bad thing.”

“But you did it, didn’t you? You killed him. You killed James Madison,” Alexander said, his voice lacking the usual emotion, replaced with the guilt and the anger.

“And it did nothing. I feel worse,” Lafayette said.

“They deserve to die. The rest of them,” Alexander challenged. “They’re all going to die anyway, might as well kill them myself.”

“I understand that you are hurt, Alexander,” Lafayette said slowly, quoting Alexander from earlier. “But that does not give you the right to choose who lives and who dies. I made a mistake. Do not make the same one.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, Lafayette.”

“Alex-”

“No. Fuck you,” Alexander said, pushing himself off of the cave ground. He stalked out of the cave, ignoring Lafayette’s protests. He gave Laf a toxic look. “Leave me alone, and I might come back.”

Alexander spun on his heel, storming off into the forest. He knew that Lafayette didn’t deserve his anger, that Lafayette was probably dealing with the same emotions he was. The same exact guilt. He had been there too, after all.

Alexander gritted his teeth, the self hate working its way in along with the guilt and the depression trying to fill the hole that John had left.

John and his perfect smile. 

A tear slipped down his cheek. Alexander would never see that smile again, never hear the sound of John’s laughter echoing around the room, brightening up the world every time.

Alexander shook the thought away, trying to focus on something else. The light barely reached the ground, the tops of the trees blocking the downward journey of the rays. He stayed out of the little patches of golden sunlight that actually did make it all the way down. They reminded him of John. Every little thing in this godforsaken forest reminded him of John-

John.

John.

John. He was like a heartbeat, and now he was gone.

Maybe it was because Alexander had traveled this direction so many times, but he was back in the charred area in front of the river, at the spot he had finally met John after the games had begun. Of course, it was all burned up now, the foliage crumbling to ashes.

Alexander painfully marched on, the sound of the ashes crunching under his feet keeping him awake. It was silent, not even the usual bird chirping. He needed something, anything as a distraction.

John’s body would probably already be back in Colony 12. Alexander would probably never see John’s body.

Don’t give up.

Alexander kept walking, trying not to dwell on any single thought for too long. Everything seemed to lead back to John, anyway. He would think that he was making progress, talking to himself about politics or something, and then John’s face would suddenly be in his mind, and he would be reliving John falling to the ground with the same haunting smile all over again. It would never end. 

A strange sense of relief washed over him as he heard the distant rushing sounds of the river in the distance, the smell of ash in the sky being replaced with the aura of life that the river emitted. Alexander began to run, knowing the way better than he knew anything else. He was almost there, almost at the running water that he could wash his feelings in. 

There was someone else there. Alexander knew who it was, he could recognize the familiar poof of hair from anywhere. He froze, looking at the back of Thomas Jefferson, the shock taking a second to register.

Jefferson was sitting at the edge of the river, a patch of golden morning sun shining directly onto his hair, which was covered with ashes and dirt. He looked peaceful, almost serene. The scene didn’t last long as Alexander ran towards him with a shout, tackling him to the ground. He didn’t know what he was doing. His anger drove him, and now he was sitting on top of Thomas Jefferson, an arm at his neck.

Jefferson didn’t even look surprised, instead giving Alexander a sarcastic smile.

“Mornin’ to you too, darlin’. Glad to see that you’re well.”

“You’re the reason he’s dead,” Alexander said, gritting his teeth, pressing closer to Jefferson.

Thomas’ face changed, and he broke eye contact with Alexander. “You’re talking about Laurens?”

“Who the fuck else would I be talking about? I could’ve saved him. I was about to save him,” Alexander screamed. He knew he was throwing a tantrum, and he hated how emotionally he was reacting. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore.

“I saved your ass is what I did,” Thomas retorted. “You were gonna step on a mine, you ass. Then you and your boyfriend would be dead, and I would be better off. I don’t know why I saved you in the first place.” He flickered his eyes back to Alexander, voice deepening darkly. “Darlin’.”

“Fucker,” Alexander said, tears pushing at his eyes, blurring his surroundings. “I should’ve died.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, pushing Alexander off of him and standing up. “You’re just being a melodramatic child, Alexander. Get a grip. We’ve all lost people, we’re all going to lose people. Guess what? Everyone has been hurt. Everyone has lost someone they cared about to these games. You’re not special. That’s just the world we lived in.”

“Without people like you, the world we lived in would be so much better,” Alexander shot back. Thomas scoffed.

“That the best you can do?” Jefferson taunted. “You pretend to be a saint, but guess what? You stood by while Jemmy was killed. You just stood there, watching. You could’ve stopped it, but, newsflash, you didn’t. And darling, I fucking saved you anyway.”

“I didn’t know Laf was going to-”

“You did. You saw it about to happen,” Thomas argued, and Alexander could see that he was losing this battle. “Darling, you wanted it to happen. Don’t lie to yourself.”

“I hate you,” Alexander seethed, not coming up with a better defense.

“That’s convenient darling, because I hate you too,” Jefferson said, throwing his hands in the air. Alexander felt more guilt welling in his chest. He had managed to mess up his relationship with Lafayette, and whatever the hell was going on with Thomas Jefferson. It was too much, and the world began to spin again. Nobody liked him. Nobody would ever love him again. He had began to sway in place, and he could feel his surroundings beginning to slip away from him.

Alexander turned, visibly shaking. He didn’t see Thomas’ concerned expression behind him, didn’t hear him asking a question. He stumbled into the woods, not really sure where he was going, collapsing against a tree. The hard bark rubbed against his back, and he could feel a rock jutting into him. He buried his head in his knees, the world beginning to slip away from him.

He was back with his mother, by his mother’s side. She was singing a song, a song that sounded so familiar and so tempting-

“Alexander.”

It was Thomas’ sharp voice again, cutting through whatever shield he had put up. Alexander flinched away from it.

“Can you hear me? Just nod,” Thomas said. 

Alexander nodded.

“Good. What’s your name? You don’t have to say it out loud, just think about it.”

Alexander Hamilton, Alexander’s brain supplied.

“Got that? Now, where are you?”

Alexander poked his head out of his knees, making eye contact with Thomas Jefferson for a few seconds, before looking around. He was in the forest, the charred part of the forest caused by the fire. He could smell the ash, and hear a bird in the distance. His breathing began to deepen, just realizing that he had been hyperventilating in the first place. It was slightly jarring.

“How old are you?” Thomas asked.

_Fifteen._

“What’s the date?”

It had been six days since they had entered the arena, which meant that the date was 

_9th._

“The year?”

_3017._

“What season is it?”

_Spring._

“Spring,” Alexander said, finally finding the ability to speak.

“You feeling better?” Thomas asked, standing back up, towering over Alexander. 

Alexander nodded, and the question burned at his mouth, the same way it had with Lafayette. “How did you know what to do?”

“Like I said, it’s a messed up world we live in,” Thomas said. He held out his hand for Alexander, who hesitated for a second before taking it. Thomas hoisted him up, and they stood facing each other for a few seconds. Thomas was the first to turn away. “Oh, and, next time I see you, darling? You’re dead.”

“Why not just kill me now?” Alexander asked, as Thomas began to saunter away.

“I have morals.”

Just like that, he was gone. Alexander was back to standing alone in the middle of a blackened forest, the burning smell of death in his nose. There was no noise, nobody else there. He felt so far away from everyone, the uncomfortable silence surrounding him. Alexander kicked the ground near the tree in frustration, hating the silence that threatened to choke him.

The ash crumbled away, and Alexander let out a gasp. There was a metal panel underneath the ash. Alexander dropped back down to the ground, examining it. He rubbed away the ash, wiping the coarse powder off on his pants, and revealing a metal square the size of one of the plates back home. It already had been pried up at one of the corners. Another tribute had been messing with the panel before him. 

Alexander wrapped his fingers around the pried up edge, exposing a bunch of wires. He poked at them, feeling a small shock and yanking his hand away. A few of the wires had been stripped, and a few others had been cut. It was deliberate and precise. He was dealing with a tech expert. 

It didn’t take long to figure out who it was from there. Benjamin Franklin, just the person Alexander needed.

Well, as they say, the games must go on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to add more fuel to the fire and say that I was laughing while writing Chapter 13.  
> And listening to disney songs.
> 
> Thomas' questions apply to PTSD flashbacks more than anxiety attacks, and it'll be addressed later.
> 
> Love you guys!


	15. Ben Franklin Discovered That Lightning Was Electricity Because He Failed At Electrocuting A Turkey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for blood

Alexander got back to the cave where he and Laf and- don't think about John- had been staying. The world no longer had the lazily floating yellow light hanging in corners. Instead, clouds had set in and Alexander could feel the humidity with every breath. He got back to the musty cave, taking a deep breath in, glad that the smell of the ash was gone. 

Lafayette seemed glad when Alexander got back, beginning some apology. Alexander cut him off, apologizing profusely before beginning to whisper about the panel in the woods, about turning the cameras off, about how Ben Franklin was close to them and knew his way around electronics. It seemed to finally be within his grasp, the chance of getting out of the games, the chance to make sure nobody was forced into the games anymore. If Mercy and Paine had been holding up their part of the deal, then the people would be mad. The people would be on their side. 

Revolution was within grasp. 

The sudden surge of optimism was refreshing, and he whispered as fast as possible, scared of the cameras that could catch a wisp of conversation here or there. That would be devastating. He'd be dead in a few seconds. 

Laf was quick to agree to whatever Alexander was saying, deciding not to ask any questions. At the very least, Alexander was talking and not yelling, and there was a plan. There was hope.

It seemed to be in short supply these days.

They didn't have much. Lafayette and he had both dropped their knives when attacking the cornucopia. The only thing that they had managed to steal from the cornucopia was the jar of medicine, which was abandoned at the mouth of the cave. It seemed to taunt them, and Alexander just wanted to get rid of it. Every time he looked at it, he thought about John. Lafayette talked him out of destroying it, stating that it could be important in the future. They picked up their backpacks, beginning to walk in the direction of the panel that Alexander had found.

The silence between them was deafening. Alexander didn't have the energy to make small talk, and Lafayette would only look down at Alexander nervously every now and then, looking away every time Alexander caught him staring.

Alexander and Lafayette got to the burned area of the forest, looking around for any other signs that there had been someone else messing around with the panels. Through unspoken agreement, they stuck together, not wanting a repeat of the cornucopia. 

Alexander was the first to notice that it was still oddly quiet. If the Capitol knew that they were poking at the panels that controlled the inner workings of the area, then why hadn't the gamemakers done something about it? He looked up at the camera in the nearby tree, scrutinizing it. It was hard to see it. Alexander turned back to Lafayette.

"Hey," Alexander said, quietly. Lafayette turned to him with hope in his eyes. Alexander pointed up to the camera in the tree. "I'm going up there."

Lafayette nodded, and Alexander walked over to the tree, jumping up and grabbing the lowest branch, he tried to pull himself up, but fell almost instantly. He barely had enough energy carry his backpack, and climbing a tree seemed out of his current abilities. Food. He needed it. Lafayette walked up to him.

“Mon ami, I can-”

“No. I can do it,” Alexander insisted. He dropped his backpack on the ground. It hit the ground, scattering the leaves with a crunch. Alexander jumped again, wrapping his arms around the branch and kicking up to hook his legs around the branch. He pulled himself up, panting at the effort. He just needed to climb two more branches, and he would be eye to eye with the camera.

Alexander caught his breath, eyeing the next branch. He launched himself up to the next branch, wrapping his arms around the branch first, and then his legs. The world seemed to spin for a few seconds from the effort, the scent of the leaves blinding his other senses. He blinked a few times, the world coming back into focus.

One more branch. Alexander reached up, his fingers gripping the rough bark. His nails dug into a crevice, getting a good grip on the limb and hoisting himself up, legs digging into the trunk and pushing off. He breathed heavily, rolling onto the branch, letting out a deep breath.

“Alexander?” Lafayette called.

Alexander screwed his eyes shut, gripping the branch, trying to stop his vision from whirling around him. The fatigue was getting to him. Every single muscle hurt. 

“I’m good,” he yelled back. 

Alexander used his arms to push his chest off the branch, turning to face the camera. He examined it for a few seconds, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, until his eyes caught on the camera light. It was off. Every other camera he had seen so far had the little red light on, which meant that this camera wasn’t working the right way.

His calloused fingers reached behind the camera, letting out a small gasp as a panel fell away from the posterior. Ben Franklin had been here too. Alexander leaned further into the camera, craning his neck.

Suddenly, he felt an arm on his shoulder, spinning around to see the smiling face of a tribute before his world turned to black.

* * *

Two cannon blasts.

Alexander woke up, groaning and disoriented. His back hurt. His shoulder felt like a pile of rocks, weighing him down. Worst of all was the sharp pain that was coming from his arm. The smell of blood was mixing with the ashy smell of the burned forest. He floated through the pain for a little, never really grasping onto anything. He existed, and everything else existed. It didn’t seem like it all existed in the same reality as him, though.

Lafayette’s whispers drew him back towards the present, and Alexander blinked a few more times, trying to understand where he was. He didn’t know, everything seemed far away, distant. 

“Five things you can see, Alexander,” Lafayette whispered, desperation in his tone.

Alexander looked around, trying to find something he could latch his eyes onto. 

“A tree,” he said hoarsely. He looked up, groaning from the effort of moving his neck. The sky was already dark, encouraging him to close his eyes. “The sky.”

Alexander let out a murmur, letting his eyelids droop down again. Lafayette let out a frustrated groan.

“Alexander, mon ami, open your eyes, please,” Lafayette said, voice squeaking. “Three more things, come on. Please.”

Alexander frowned at the tone of Lafayette’s words, opening his eyes again. He looked down, seeing rope snaking around his body. He didn’t dwell on the fact, deciding to just answer Lafayette’s question.

“Rope, my body,” Alexander said, shaking his head a little bit, searching for something else concrete. “The ground.”

Lafayette let out a mix between an frustrated and relieved sigh.

“Okay, four things you can feel?”

Alexander immediately went for the source of the most pain.

“My arm,” he said, and suddenly the pain became so much more real. Alexander snapped to the present, looking down to his arm. There was a giant cut in his forearm, and it was dripping sticky crimson blood onto the forest ground. He pulled at his hand, wanting to curl into himself, away from the pain. It didn’t work, his arm wasn’t moving. It took a second for his eyes to find the rope that was wrapped around his wrist. He let out a yelp as he jerked at his hand again, his shoulder and his hand protesting with a stab of pain.

Alexander began to breathe shallowly, taking in short breaths, suddenly remembering the fact that he was breathing. 

“Where are we Laf?” he asked, searching with eyes for some kind of clue. They were still in the charred area of the forest, and it took Alexander a few more seconds for his eyes to land on the panel that he had uncovered earlier. It shone in the little bit of light that still permeated through the labyrinthine forest. Before Laf had a chance to answer, Alexander asked another question. “Why are we here?”

“I do not know,” Lafayette said. Alexander looked in the direction of the sound, seeing Laf’s wilted body next to him. They were both tied around the same tree, ropes holding their wrists and torsos in place. Lafayette looked terrified. Alexander tried to reach his hand over, failing.

Alexander thought back to the last few things he remembered. The tree, nails gripping the bark. The camera with the panel missing.

His thoughts were cut off abruptly by the familiar sound of the Capitol anthem, blaring through the air. Alexander forced himself to look into the sky, trying to keep count of who was alive. The faces began to flash through the air.

Benjamin Franklin, Colony 5.

Alexander swore, groaning to himself. The one person that might’ve been able to get them out of this shit was gone. He looked back at the sky, examining the features of the tribute. He looked familiar, more familiar than many of the other tributes. 

The eyes, the smile.

Alexander had seen the face before. Alexander had seen the face today, even. It was the tribute that had been in the tree, the last thing he saw before ending up where he was now. If they were in the same spot when Alexander was captured, that would mean that Ben Franklin had likely suffered the same fate as Alexander did. If whoever killed Ben had also decided to keep Alexander hostage, that would mean-

His train of thought stopped as the next face filled the sky.

Lafayette.

Alexander’s breath immediately halted, and a spike of panic traveled through him. He turned over to where he had seen Lafayette a few moments ago, alive and scared.

“Laf?” Alexander croaked, not knowing how to react. Fear and guilt and sadness and confusion began to well in his chest again. There was no cannon blast in the past few minutes, why was Lafayette dead? 

“Alexandre,” Lafayette said, voice quiet. Alexander saw that he was looking to the sky with a confused expression, mouth hanging slightly open. The fear subsided for a few seconds, and he was about to ask every question in his head when a new face flashed across the sky.

It was Alexander’s. 

He examined the face, scrutinizing every detail, trying to figure out if it was really him. The twelve in the corner confirmed it. After all, the other tribute from Colony twelve was-

“Merde,” Lafayette whispered next to him, looking over to Alexander incredulously. “I am seeing a ghost.”

Alexander shifted his position, trying to pinch himself. The stab of pain that he received from his arm informed him that he was, in fact, alive and awake.

“I’m not dead, Laf,” Alexander said.

“And neither am I, but who am I to argue with what the Capitol says?” 

Alexander jerked his head up to the noise. His body punished him for the sudden movement with a jolt of pain. His eyes locked onto Benjamin Franklin’s form, who was twirling a machete around carelessly. There was a mischievous glint in his eye, the artificial moonlight bouncing off his skin. A shadow fell over his face, and Alexander squirmed backwards a little, against the tree, back protesting.

A thousand questions flashed through Alexander’s head. Had he died and moved on to another life? Were he and Lafayette dead? Were there other people here? Would John be here? He pushed the thoughts away immediately, focusing back on Ben Franklin, who was looking at Alexander and Lafayette with a bored expression. He was holding his left arm close to his chest, while his right arm did all the work

Alexander looked down at his left arm, suddenly understanding the deliberate cuts on his arm. His tracker. The Capitol had no idea where he was now, and if his assumptions were correct, he and Laf had appeared in the sky alongside Ben Franklin because they were missing their trackers. 

“Ah, so you’ve figured it out,” Franklin said, noticing the realization on Alexander’s face. Lafayette shot him a confused look. Ben rolled his eyes. “Your trackers. I cut them out. Didn’t want the gamemakers interfering.”

Well, that explained a lot of things. 

“I cut mine out a few days ago, but they didn’t do anything about it. I’m guessing they tried to find me, and they couldn’t. So instead of broadcasting the fact that they had lost position on a tribute, they just decided to pronounce me dead, seeing two other people also go offline. Imagine the havoc we could wreak if we got in front of a camera and showed we were alive, huh? That would be fun,” he said, laughing to himself, as if he had said some type of joke. 

“Now listen here, losers. I’m going to be honest and say the only reason I’m keeping you alive is because you guys might be useful later. The people love you, you have influence. I don’t. I’m just a forgotten kid from Colony 5. People would be asking about your deaths. They’re not going to ask about mine.”

Alexander leaned against the tree, relaxing a little. Ben wasn’t going to kill them, at least for now. He turned his neck and looked at Lafayette, still frozen in terror.

“So I would appreciate it if you stayed out of my way and didn’t cause trouble. I don’t need to remind you that I only really need one of you,” he said, his voice dropping down into a dangerous zone. He stepped forward, holding his machete up to Alexander’s chin, tilting Alexander’s face back towards him. “I intend to be the one getting out of this arena.”

Well, Ben Franklin was a dead end. Literally. There was no way that he would be able to help take down the Capitol, especially when he was so dead set on killing everyone.

Alexander chuckled to himself at the pun.

“What about the cameras?” he asked. Ben Franklin’s face lit up, probably to start another long rant on how he rigged the cameras.

“That panel over there,” Ben said, gesturing to the panel that Alexander had found. “Controls the cameras for this entire area of the forest. I traced the wire down from one of the cameras after they burned this entire area. Stupid move on their part, really. I cut out my tracker afterwards. They can’t see us.”

Ben smiled, obviously proud of himself. Alexander wanted to wipe that grin right off of his face. He settles for flipping him off, even though his wrist was secured to the tree. Ben didn’t seem to notice.

“Anyway, since you two seemed to be tied up at the moment,” Ben grinned impishly. Alexander rolled his eyes. “I’m going to get some sleep, cause I’m actually safe now that everyone thinks I’m dead. Do me a favor and scream if you hear anything, it’s in your own interests.”

Ben waved at them, moving to rest against the other side of the tree, snoring within a few seconds. Alexander groaned, turning back to Lafayette. He wasn’t scared, even though every hair on his body was upright. Ben just pissed him off more than anything else, but he didn’t have the energy to mouth him off. He needed food, and he could feel the stabbing ache in his stomach again, now that the pain in his arm had ebbed into the background. 

The worst part was that he no longer had the sponsors that would be able to send him the food. Everyone thought that he was dead. Paine and Mercy and his entire colony back home. He was alone in this, except for Lafayette.

Still, stranded in the forest, alone and injured and starving, was one of the worst situations Alexander had found himself in. 

He sighed, seeing Lafayette already beginning to doze off.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote 4k the day before yesterday and 3k yesterday and now I am dead inside.  
> Plus I have to go to diving now and I don't have the energy to talk to people.  
> h e l p m e


	16. One Of Thomas Jefferson's Debts Was Paid With A Statue Of Thomas Jefferson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Me, writing: Ben Franklin is legit my fave, even though he isn't in Hamilton  
> Me, writing: Ah fuck it he has a huge role now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood. There's also a scene that's going to be hard to read if you're squeamish. 
> 
> There's a summary in the end notes, if you need it.

Alexander did his best to keep himself up the rest of the night, even though fatigue was pulling at his eyelids as if they were a thousand pound weights. Lafayette had begun to sleep a few minutes after Franklin, clearly needing the sleep. Alexander’s efforts paid off as he saw a blackened figure in the distance after an hour and a half. It certainly felt a lot longer, especially with nothing to think about other than his rumbling stomach and the fact that he was all alone in the middle of the forest.

Not for much longer.

Alexander weighed his options. He didn't know who the figure was, and the chances were that if he were to call for the person, he was more likely to end up with a sword in his heart than an actual way out. He considered making an animal sound to see if whoever it was would throw their weapon over so that Alexander could escape using the weapon, but that sounded far fetched.

His face fell as he realized he was probably better off keeping silent and waiting for whoever it was to pass. It was so frustrating, being able to see the person only a few yards away, still unable to do anything. What would the other tributes do it they found out that he wasn't dead? Alexander quickly dismissed the notion of pretending to be a ghost. That was just pretentious at his point.

The person turned, clearly looking for something, and Alexander saw their face, reflected in the moonlight. None other than the great Thomas Jefferson.

Sarcasm, obviously.

It was really Ben’s fault, keeping them in the area of the forest on the way to the river, where he and Thomas passed through often.

Thomas hadn't killed Alexander in the past, but he made the promise to do it the next time that they met. Alexander still had a little advantage, Thomas thought that he was dead, so he had the element of surprise. Not to mention, it would be cruel to kill someone that didn't have the chance to fight back. 

"Jefferson," Alexander whispered hoarsely, before his brain had the chance to stop him. Thomas jerked his head up, gripping the spear tighter and looking around. "Jefferson," Alexander repeated, voice growing in volume a little. He didn't want to wake Ben, who was still sleeping next to Alexander, and his voice barely had the energy needed to go much louder. Still, Thomas seemed to notice this time, looking over to Alexander in surprise. He held his spear out in front of him, slowly walking over.

"Thomas," Alexander said, shifting uncomfortably at the sight of the spear. "It's me, Alexander."

Thomas didn't say anything, standing a few feet away from Alexander and looking around, as if he was trying to find someone. Alexander groaned, annoyed.

"Thomas, you ass, get me out of this?"" he said, frustration leaking into his voice. He was hungry, tired, and in pain. Screw manners. Alexander let an arrogant smirk slide its way onto his face, mocking Thomas. "Darling'"

Jefferson stared at him a little longer, scrutinizing him, trying to find something wrong with the picture of Alexander in front of him. Alexander didn't really blame him. Hallucinations were common in the games, and the gamemakers loved to screw with people by using holograms. Thomas thought that Alexander was dead, and it made sense for him to be wary. However, this was literally the worst time for there to be doubt. Ben Franklin could wake up any minute, and then where would they be?

"You're dead," Thomas said, voice shaking a little bit.

"I'm alive. Franklin cut out my tracker," Alexander explained, doing his best to show his arm to Thomas. It was hard, with his arm secured to the tree. Alexander felt a jolt of pain travel up his hand. Thomas raised an eyebrow, looking around, trying to find the rest of the trap. Alexander groaned again. "There are no cameras here. I'll explain everything later. Just let Laf and I go, okay?”

“You’re real?” Thomas asked.

“Yes,” Alexander said, eyes lighting up at the words.

“Prove it.”

Goddammit.

Alexander racked his brain, trying to think of some way to prove that he was, in fact, real, and not some other random trap set by the Capitol. His eyes landed on the panel from the morning.

“Okay. You know how we were here this morning? There’s a panel near the tree that I was by this morning. There’s a few wires cut, that was Ben Franklin. Those wires control all the cameras in this part of the forest,” Alexander said. “If you look around, none of the camera lights are on. Why would the Capitol put me here if they can’t even see me? You know that they want a show, right?”

Thomas nodded slowly, before his eyes swept the forest, looking for the lights that meant that the cameras were on. He looked back to Alexander after.

“Even if you’re alive, why should I help you?” he asked. Still, he lowered his spear slightly, so that Alexander wasn’t staring down the point anymore.

“My god, Jefferson. How about we have this conversation after I’m out of this situation?” Alexander asked. “I will gladly explain how I am the best chance you have to get out of here, ‘especially since the rest of your posse doesn’t like you,” Alexander said, voice gaining in confidence. “Cut Laf and me out, and we can talk like civilized humans. We don’t exactly have weapons, you can run us through with a spear if you’d like to.”

Thomas sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“Wonderful. Get me out,” Alexander insisted.

“Fine,” Thomas said, lowering the spear. He used the edge of the spear to sever the ropes holding Alexander and Lafayette in place, and Alexander shrugged himself out, muscles aching. He moved to Lafayette, taking his ropes off carefully, not wanting to wake him. Laf already had a long enough day, and it would be better for both of them if he were well rested. 

Thomas attempted to say something, but Alexander looked up to him, pressing a finger to his lips. Alexander wrapped the rope around Ben’s arms and legs, mixing together a bunch of the knots he remembered from training. He jumped away after he was done, taking a second to admire the ties before looking at Thomas.

“Do you have a plan or something?” Thomas asked.

“Well-” Alexander started, before getting cut off by the sound of a hovercraft in the air. It was the hovercrafts that the Capitol used to pick up the dead tributes. But there hadn’t been any cannons, meaning that the helicopter was most probably looking for Alexander, Laf, and Franklin. 

Another thing the Capitol wouldn’t do: Go in with a helicopter without knowing their exact location. As soon as there was something wrong with the games, the Capitol no longer looked as strong. He had written about it before. This entire illusion of perfection was the only reason the Capitol seemed to have this much power. 

Alexander crouched behind a bush, pulling Jefferson down with him. Thomas was about to say something, but Alexander clamped his hand over Thomas’ mouth, giving him a warning look, and gesturing to the hovercraft with his chin. 

How had the Capitol found their position if their trackers and the cameras were all down? Wait, not all of their trackers were down. Alexander’s eyes landed on the small bump on Thomas’ skin. The Capitol probably saw that Thomas’ tracker had stopped in this area of the woods, and connected the dots from there. 

Alexander thought quickly, lunging for Ben’s knife. Both Ben and Laf were beginning to stir from the sound of the hovercraft above them. Alexander looked back over to Thomas, gripping the knife in his hand.

“Give me your arm,” Alexander said.

“What?” Thomas asked, jerking away from Alexander, backing away. Alexander grabbed his shirt, pulling him back under the leaves. 

“You’re going to get us all killed,” Alexander hissed. “Your tracker. Let me get it out.”

Thomas continued to look at him with wide eyes, clutching his hand. Alexander groaned, pulling Jefferson’s arm towards him, gripping it tightly and carving the blade into Thomas’ dark skin, blood beginning to leak out. He didn’t stop, even with Thomas squirming under him. He pressed the blade under the flesh, digging out the tracker. Alexander placed the tracker on the rocks, quickly smashing it with another rock. It broke into several pieces with a satisfying crack.

There was a little pause, and Alexander waited.

Cannon blast. 

Alexander looked up to the hovercraft, waiting for it to leave. It hovered for a few seconds over their location, and Alexander held his breath, slowly inching away from the tree, trying to make sure that the hovercraft wouldn’t find them. It floated in place for a little bit, before flying away. 

Alexander focused on the receding form, the buzzing noise slowly fading out as it disappeared into the sky. He sighed, looking over at both Lafayette and Ben Franklin, who were both very awake now. Lafayette was looking quizzically at Alexander, and it took Alexander a second to realize that he was looking at Thomas. 

Alexander looked over as well, and saw Jefferson clutching his arm to his chest, blood blossoming outwards. He was staring at Alexander with an expression between shock and hurt, clearly in pain. 

“What is he doing here, Alexander?” Lafayette asked, his voice dangerously low. Alexander looked back at him, and he could see the anger in Laf’s eyes. It was well placed. To him, Jefferson was jointly responsible for both Herc and John’s deaths. 

“He’s the one that cut us out, Laf,” Alexander said, but he could feel fear creeping up on him. He began to back away from Jefferson, realizing that he was a killer, and probably had no problems with killing.

And Alexander was friends with him.

Jefferson looked between the two of them, eyes wide. 

Ben rolled his eyes. “No offense, but you idiots realize that the Capitol could probably easily find our position? They’re coming back, probably with a ton of redcoats. After all, they can do whatever they want, the cameras are down for this area. The people wouldn’t know.”

Alexander shot Ben an annoyed glance. “And why didn’t they do that this time?”

“Several possible reasons. First, there’s the fact that they may have thought that you were actually dead, and they came to find your bodies. They haven’t seen you since you fell out of a tree,” Ben said pointedly. “Or they were checking if we were planning an attack or a trap or something, which we clearly haven’t done. They know we’re not ready. Good job,” he finished, voice twinged with sarcasm.

Thomas gave him the look; Laf glared at Thomas, and Ben had a smirk on his face. It was overwhelming. Alexander groaned, standing up. 

“I’m taking a walk,” he said simply. “Jefferson, come with me. Laf, you guard Ben. We’ll be back in a minute.”

Lafayette looked ready to protest, but nodded. Alexander smiled at him, grateful, before he looked at Thomas. He held out a hand to help him up, but Thomas stood up by himself, grunting at the effort. Alexander dropped his hand.

Alexander gave a slight nod to Lafayette, walking in the direction of the river. He stopped as soon as they were out of sight, looking up at Jefferson. He hadn’t been saying anything, hadn’t been making the usual jibes at Alexander.

“You’ve been quiet,” Alexander said.

Jefferson gave him a dirty look. “Thought you were dead.”

“I’m not,” Alexander said, simply. “Sorry about your arm.”

“You shouldn’t’ve done that, darling,” Jefferson said coldly. “You realize that I can’t exactly get back to my alliance now?”

“But-”

“And that even if I did get out of these godforsaken games, the Capitol now views me as an enemy? I’m not exactly going to survive very long even if I do go home,” Jefferson sneered. “Darling.”

Alexander stopped for a few seconds. “The Capitol won’t even exist anymore if this goes right. Rebellion is coming, and what-”

“I thought we were some form of friends, Hamilton. I actually trusted you, and you’ve essentially killed me. I hope you’re happy,” Thomas said, beginning to stalk away. Alexander grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back. He could feel his entire worldview shifting. He was ruining one of the few relationships he had left. Alexander didn’t want Thomas to just walk away.

“I didn’t think. I’m sorry,” Alexander said, voice small. 

“No, you were thinking about yourself,” Thomas said, turning walking closer to Alexander, backing him up. “You know why? Because you’re a selfish child who doesn’t take time to think about the consequences of your actions.”

Alexander nodded, terrified. “I’m sorry, I just thought-”

“I’ve saved you multiple times, and at least I knew that I was doing it to feel better about myself. You act like you’re somehow better than everyone else, with your stupid pacifist schtick. All you are is a child with delusions of grandeur. Do you think whatever you’re doing is going to change anything?” Thomas asked, pausing.

“Yes-”

“Not finished, darling,” Thomas said. Alexander shrunk away, his back hitting a tree, and Thomas stepped closer. “Here’s the thing. The odds are never going to be in your favor. The Capitol has all the cards, and it’s rigged against you. You’re just endangering countless people because you want to feel better about yourself. Do you really want to kill thousands of innocent people just to save yourself, one idiotic child?”

Alexander shook his head, fear and guilt eating him up. He crumpled, slumping against the tree. Thomas bent down, making him feel even smaller.

“I’m going to stick with you, because you’ve gone and made it my fight as well. But I’m not doing this because we’re friends, you got that?”

Alexander nodded, still too afraid to say a word. Thomas stepped back. 

“Good.”

There was silence for a little bit as they looked at each other. 

“If you were dead this would’ve been so much less complicated,” Thomas said softly, sighing. He turned around and walked back towards Lafayette and Ben. Alexander stood there in the silence a little longer, letting whatever feeling was now in his gut to sink in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Basically, Thomas finds Alex and Laf at the tree, and he helps them escape. A Capitol hovercraft comes for some reason, and Alexander realizes that it's probably Thomas' tracker that's alerting the Capitol to their position. He cuts out the tracker and Thomas is pissed™
> 
> This might go on hiatus for a week or so while I sort out my life  
> But I'll be back  
> And I'll be posting other writing stuff in the meanwhile (working on a 10k oneshot right now, hopefully it sticks to 10k)  
> It'll probably be after Chapter 19 or 20 that it goes off


	17. Hamilton Sided With The British Before Hercules Mulligan Was Like...No™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a fucking fluffy chapter.  
> Didn't expect that, now did you?

A plan.

That’s what Lafayette had proposed, and they had all agreed, because a plan was what they needed. Sadly, none of them realized how much work it would actually take to come up with a plan. They were all standing around in a circle, coming up with random ideas. So far, they had nothing, and every single suggestion any of them had was shot down by the sound of Ben Franklin’s condescending giggles. If they’d ask him why he was giggling about the plan, he would find about eighteen flaws, and rip the plan to shreds.

It was enlightening, really. They would probably be dead ten times over if it weren’t for Ben Franklin’s snide comments.

A plan.

Alexander proposed yelling at one of the cameras, to put a message out to the people in the colonies. If the Capitol didn’t instantly block the feed from the camera, it would lead to the death of all of them, and the death of a bunch of people in the colonies. Or none, he really had no idea how many people were feeling this entire rebellion thing. The plan was shot down pretty early on. Turns out people would rather stay alive. Go figure.

How many people in the colonies were questioning why they hadn’t shown Alexander’s death? After all, Laurens had put him in the spotlight, there were people rooting for him. A lot of people. It would be suspicious for the Capitol not to cover his death.

Alexander fidgeted with his hands for a little bit, focusing more on the stabbing pain in his stomach than the actual conversation.

That’s when Thomas Jefferson came up with a plan. If the hovercraft was coming back, they could plan for an attack on the hovercraft, and get everyone out that way. The proposal was missing the usual shootdown by Ben Franklin, and everyone looked over at him expectantly. All he did was shrug his shoulders.

“It’s better than the other crap you were suggesting.”

And that was that.

It wasn’t long before all four of them began to see issues with the plan. After all, they were four undernourished, half-dead children. Since they had missed the window with the first hovercraft, chances were that this one would be equipped with a ton of redcoats, ready to kill. After all, everyone thought that they were dead anyway. There would be no questions asked.

"We need more people."

The discussion of where exactly to get more people began. There were always the other tributes in the Hunger Games. There were only a small handful left- the rest of the careers, Angelica and Eiza, and Theodosia. Alexander still hadn't seen Theodosia at any point during the games, and they had a slim chance of finding her in the first place.

Thomas knew where the careers were, and could possibly talk them into following the plan. That was also a far-fetched fantasy, though. Thomas wasn't on good terms with the rest of the careers, and James was the only person who was actually vouching for him. The only person keeping him alive, really. Chances were that George Washington and John Adams would write him off immediately.

Besides, even getting to the careers in the first place would be a hassle. The rest of the cameras would obviously be focused on finding them, and the moment that any of them stepped out of the area with no cameras, they would most certainly be dead.

Alexander looked over to Ben.

"We need the rest of the cameras down," Alexander said. "We're not getting anywhere unless we have other people on our side, and we're not going to have other people on our side unless we go out and find them."

Lafayette nodded his assent, shifting his gaze over to Ben as well. Ben was leaning against the tree, his wrists and ankles tied together- thanks to Alexander. He gave them a sly smile. 

"I'm guessing you want me to take down the cameras everywhere else?" he asked.

"Yes, of course we do," Alexander said. "That's why we're staring at you."

"Well, I'm not going to do it," Ben said. "Unlike you losers, I actually want to survive. Picking a fight with the Capitol is on the list of things you should definitely not do if you want to survive."

"The Capitol is going to kill all of us, anyway," Alexander argued, feeling rage flare up in him. "Don't tell me that you're actually okay with the games. That's real fucked up."

"I think the Capitol has a good reason for having the games," Ben replied, the usual grin slipping back onto his face, as if he was happy to see Alexander riled up. He probably did, the little shit. Alexander groaned to himself

"Of course you would say that. You were completely fine with getting out of here by murdering everyone else in here. You do realize that these are children, right? Same as you," Alexander said, voice steadily increasing in volume, throwing his arms around angrily.

Lafayette grabbed his hand, pulling him down. 

"Mon ami, calm down," he said, a warning tone in his voice. "Hurting the people that can help us isn't the best option."

"Maybe it is," Alexander said, voice darkening. Lafayette let go of Alexander's wrist, recoiling. 

"Alexander, I know that you are hurt, okay?" Lafayette said slowly. "But violence is not the answer. What happened to the boy I met when this entire mess started? The boy who refused to hurt anyone."

"He realized that sometimes, it makes sense to hurt a few to help the many. After all, what's the point when you’re-” Alexander turned to Jefferson, his voice turning toxic. “How did you say it? Killing thousands of innocent people just to save,” he leaned in, “one child.”

Thomas shivered.

“Alexander, get a hold on yourself,” Lafayette said, stepping between Alexander and Thomas.

Alexander looked towards Ben, who was shuddering where he was sitting. Alexander’s lips curled into a grin, smiling up at Lafayette. 

“I think he’ll be much more cooperative now,” Alexander sang quietly, a sly look on his face. 

“Look, Alexander. I know you have been through a lot, but you need to calm yourself down, okay? Take a walk. Come back when you are thinking through things rationally,” Lafayette said. “I trust that you will do that?”

Alexander nodded, and Laf pushed him on his way, turning back to address Thomas.

Thomas.

What a fucking asshole.

At least, that was what Alexander had been calling him in his head for the past hour or so. Thomas Jefferson? Yeah, screw him, honestly. He didn’t even know why he was so thrown off of his game after their latest shitstorm of an argument. Alexander argued with people all the time. People had said worse things about him all the time.

But Thomas Jefferson-

The name filled Alexander with rage now. He had been working up to stopping kids from going to their deaths, and Thomas fucking Jefferson had felt the need to show up and explain how that was a selfish thing for Alexander to do. 

-What a fucking asshat.

Alexander leaned against a tree, wanting nothing more than for John to be there with him. If John were here, he would be able to make it so much better. If John were here, Alexander wouldn’t have to deal with all of this alone. It was Alexander’s own fault, really. He was the one who ruined the relationship with Jefferson, the one who was currently ruining the relationship with Lafayette. Laf had been smart to send him out before things got much work. He made a mental note to thank Laf later.

Alexander sighed, feeling the charred bark rub off on his shoulder, leaving a black mark. What would he even do once they got out of the games? People couldn’t really ask him to lead after all of this, right?

Who would lead the rebellion, in the end?

Mercy and Paine both had a good chance of doing it. He wondered how they were doing back home. Had they stopped their efforts because they thought Alexander was dead? Did they know he wasn’t dead? Everything would be so much better if he had a way to contact them. But nope, he was alone in the middle of a burned forest.

The forest had been burned to force Alexander and John together.

Alexander realized the fact suddenly. The gamemakers wanted to push them together. Look at where they were now. Alexander closed his eyes, imagining John’s face again. He could feel the tears pushing at his eyes, he knew it was a stupid thing to think about, something that would only lead to more pain for him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from falling. It would only make him feel more weak.

That was the feeling Alexander had been feeling this entire time. Weakness. Helplessness. There was no way to control what was going on. He was alone in the middle of the woods, and that thought terrified him. Alexander was just a child who couldn’t do anything; one who would never be able fight back. He shuddered, feeling the goosebumps traveling up his arms. There was no way he would be able to win against the Capitol. Thomas was right. The Capitol had everything. Alexander couldn’t do a thing against them.

There was the sound of crunching footsteps behind him.

"Lafayette sent me, said I had to,” he switched to imitating Lafayette, waving his arm around and assuming a french accent, “talk our issues out.”

Alexander turned to face him, hoping the tears weren't evident. The last thing he needed was Thomas Jefferson seeing him as weak. The boy already seemed to think of Alexander as lowly. It was disheartening, to say the least. 

Alexander didn't say anything, waiting for Thomas to elaborate or leave.

"He said that we have some shit that he need to work out," Jefferson explained, walking closer to Alexander. Alexander didn't look away from Jefferson's eyes, attempting to unnerve him. It didn't seem to work. "Alexander, have you been crying?"

Alexander shrugged, slumping against the tree even more, feeling trapped by the situation. Of course, he wanted to leave, but then Laf would be disappointed, and Alexander would be ruining their friendship even more. So he stayed, waiting for Jefferson to do something.

Thomas moved closer, wiping a tear off of Alexander’s face. 

"Sorry for snapping at you earlier," Thomas finally said, the silence evidently weighing on him. “I was feeling upset about Madison and my own problems and I forgot that I was talking to a real person.”

“Like you said, everyone around here has been through a lot of crap,” Alexander finally replied, turning away from Thomas, facing the river. The sun peeked up beyond the horizon of trees, dousing the misty air in a golden sheen. “And I don’t blame you. You were right; I’m just a selfish child who thought they could change the world.”

"No, I was just being emotional," Thomas said, shaking his head. "Trust me. You're...doing a good thing, okay? I'm sorry. I was an asshole.”

Alexander felt like slipping Thomas a “yes, you were,” but there was no point. He didn’t want to drive anymore wedges into the few relationships he had left. He buried a hand in his head, tugging at his hair softly. Alexander eyes darted to Thomas for a second, before looking away again.

“Do you,” Thomas paused, “maybe want to talk about it?” 

Alexander looked back at him, peering up into Thomas’ eyes. He had a genuinely concerned expression on his face. Alexander let out a sigh, nodding. He opened his mouth, not knowing exactly where to start.

“John was there for me throughout everything in my life,” Alexander said, breaking the eye contact by looking down. “And I knew that we wouldn’t both make it, but I always thought that I would be the one to die, and not John. I need him. He was the only one who cared-”

Alexander’s voice broke, and the tears began to leak and trail down his cheeks.

Thomas looked around for a quick second, hesitating before wrapping his arms around Alexander’s small frame. He rubbed down Alexander’s back, trying to be as soothing as possible. Alexander relaxed against the grip, sinking into Thomas. It would all be over soon. That’s all that mattered.

“Um, were the two of you…” Thomas started, voice trailing off in the end. Alexander looked up to see Thomas looking at him with an indescribable expression. Guilt was evident on his face, and something else.

Hope?

There was no way.

Alexander didn’t feel like analyzing it, instead settling for nodding against Thomas’ chest. They probably had shown it at the worst time, but he and John loved each other. Thomas sighed, sinking a little. 

“Why do you care?” he asked.

“I don’t,” Jefferson responded, a little too quickly, looking away. 

Alexander winced a little as the words hit him.

“Not like that. I care about you,” Thomas said, grasping for something to say.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, darling.”

“I care about you too.”

“Really?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah,” Hamilton said, smiling. “You’re really not that bad.”

“Sorry about earlier,” Thomas said.

“It’s okay,” Alexander said, wrapping his own arms around Thomas and giving him a reassuring squeeze. “You mentioned James, right? Wanna talk about it?”

Thomas’ face darkened. “No.”

Alexander nodded. After all, it had been Laf who had killed Madison. There was no way that would be easy to get over. Hamilton let out a little sigh.

“If you could go back to the careers, would you?” he asked. It was the question that had been pounding in his head for a while. After all, the careers were the ones with the greatest chance of getting out of here. However, that was because they didn’t seem to have a problem with killing. It was almost a test. 

Thomas looked down, studying his face. There was silence for a few more seconds. The right answer was easy, honestly. Just say “no” and get it over with. It could’ve easily been a lie. But the fact that he was actually thinking about it proved that what came next wasn’t a lie.

“No.”

Alexander grinned, closing his eyes snuggling closer to Thomas, feeling safe in the games for once. Thomas sighed, and Alexander could tell he was about to take him up on the offer to talk about it.

“They were horrible people. I never really fit in with them,” Thomas said. “I always thought it would be easy to kill everyone and win. After all, that’s what I’ve been told my entire life, right?” He let out a dry chuckle. “Problem is, I killed that first kid, back at the cornucopia. You know the one, right? They were right over you.”

Right. The tribute from Colony 6. Alexander nodded, not wanting to think about that tribute’s face as they fell and the blood spatter and that tribute’s face and the sight of the tribute falling just like John did and-

“I felt so guilty afterwards. That kid was younger than I was. They were a kid. They didn’t deserve to die,” Thomas said. “And I never killed anyone else after that. I think James noticed. James understood. He didn’t stop killing, though. And I convinced myself that I could live with everyone around me killing each other, as long as I didn't kill anyone myself. That’s the reason I didn’t kill you when I met you out here. Wanted to do at least one thing right.”

Alexander nodded, breath stilling for a few seconds with the new information. Thomas sighed, slowly pulling himself out of Alexander’s grip.

“I’m going to get back to base,” he said, beginning to walk away. Alexander caught up to him quickly.

“Thomas?”

“What is it?”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a month since I've started posting this???  
> AND I NOTICED I PASSED 100 KUDOS???  
> Thanks so much, everyone! This is awesome!
> 
> On another note, since finals are coming up, I won't be having as much time to write. Instead of going on hiatus for a while like I said last chapter, I'm changing my update schedule. Instead of every other day, It's only going to update on Thursday and Sunday. (There's no update tomorrow, though) I'll probably change it back in the future after I catch up on life. 
> 
> Thank you guys! I'll see you Sunday.


	18. Thomas Jefferson's Favorite Pet Bird Was Named Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for a panic attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thomas Jefferson is great at naming pets

They were back with Ben at the tree, trying to get information out of them. They needed the cameras down for the entire arena before anything could happen, and Ben was giving them nothing.

Nothing other than a horrible time.

Alexander was sitting in front of him, barrelling off reasons that he should listen to them. The usual "we have the upper hand here," and "don't you want to take down the people who put you here in the first place?" were met with deaf ears. The stress was clearly affecting him, and he was just yelling about the stupidity of the Capitol after a while.

Meanwhile, Thomas and Lafayette were actually trying to put together a coherent plan, deciding to keep Alexander out of this one. He was hungry and cranky, and honestly deserved a break. If yelling at Ben was going to help him, so be it. Ben kept sending them desperate looks, trying to them to get Alexander away from him. His stares were completely ignored. At the very least, Alexander's incessant rambling could be used as a torture device. 

They stayed like this for a while, the forest being kept alive by the sound of Alexander's shouting and empty threats. Ben seemed to have enough, and he gave Lafayette and Thomas a searching look.

"Not even your attack dog is actually attacking. Just let me out."

Anger flashed in Alexander's eyes and the ramblings became more desperate, and Lafayette was suddenly by Alexander's side, handing him a knife.Ben's eyes widened, and he tried to back away. Alexander gave him a grin, clearly happy at the fact that Ben was finally reacting.

"Mon ami, find something to eat, okay? Do not stray past the burned area," Lafayette said.

Alexander was about to protest, but nodded, seeing the look in Lafayette's eyes. He shot a last dirty glance towards Ben, stalking off into the forest to find something to eat. He would take anything at this point. He was starving. 

Without the rope, it was a lot harder to catch anything. He was just stumbling around the forest randomly at this point. He groaned, hearing his stomach rumble again. Alexander walked towards a tree, jaw set in determination. He needed to eat. 

Alexander’s eyes floated over to one of the trees. The bottom was burned, charred a black color, but the area right at eye level for him was clean. He dug the knife point into some of the bark, and watched as a few pieces chipped away. He stuffed them in his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing, coughing hoarsely. The taste was woody and muddy and essentially what he’s expected tree bark to taste like, but it had an underlying sweetness to it. He felt his stomach turn, and went back for another piece of bark. His brain supplied him with the information that John had paid more attention to which berries were poisonous, and Alexander shoved all the thoughts associated with John away, again. 

Alexander looked around. John said that he had been eating berries, which meant there were some form of edible berries around here somewhere. He didn’t know which ones they’d be, but at this point, he was desperate. Eating tree bark was barely doing anything for him. 

It was then that he realized that all the berries would be growing close to the ground, and everything close to the ground has been burned up by the fire. Alexander groaned, smacking his head against a tree. Nothing was working out for him. He groaned at the dull pain that resulted, but it felt like it was waking him up. He sighed, leaning against the tree for support. He wanted nothing other than a cup of coffee-

And John.

Alexander mentally cursed. He had been doing so well. John had finally been out of his thoughts for a while. His stomach grumbled again, and he slumped against the tree miserably, closing his eyes.

He wouldn’t fall asleep.

That’s what Alexander told himself, but the fatigue was catching up. The fatigue and the hunger and- he sunk down, knees weakening, beginning to let the world drift around him.

Alexander was jolted awake by a whistling noise, and he quickly dropped down to the ground, just as an axe embedded itself in the tree above him. There was a satisfying thunk, and the axe vibrated ever so slightly above him. If he hadn’t noticed- hadn’t dropped, it would’ve certainly been in his head. He stumbled backward for a few seconds, brain just beginning to catch up with what was going on. Someone was here. In this area of the forest. 

Fear.

“Sorry, I’m not as good with an axe. I don’t think I got her.”

Alexander immediately scrambled up, the crunch of the ash under his feet nonexistent when compared with the sound of blood pounding in his ears. He could likely buy Laf and Thomas a few seconds, but whoever it was who was chasing him probably saw him standing up and running. He cursed at himself again, continuing to stumble through the forest.

It had been a male voice, and the only other boys who were still alive other than Thomas, Lafayette, and Ben were the careers. Shit. It had probably been John Adams. There was no mistaking Washington’s booming voice.

Alexander finally got himself to where Laf and Thomas were. They gave him a stare. Alexander leaned against a tree to try to catch his breath, waving his arm in the direction that he had run from. Thomas walked closer to him, studying Alexander. Lafayette took a few steps closer to Alexander as well, keeping an eye on Ben.

“Are you alright?”

“Careers,” Alexander finally said, voice hoarse. It was only strong enough to reach Thomas and Laf, and he could see Ben struggling to figure out what was going on.

Thomas looked up, fear evident in his eyes. The only real advantage they had right now was that the careers thought they were dead. It really wasn’t that much of an advantage anyway, because they didn’t have the time nor the energy to hide themselves before the careers found them. Alexander coughed a few times. Jefferson was gripping his shoulder tightly, muttering something under his breath. Alexander could see the fear on his frozen face. 

That’s how Thomas knew about the questions.

Alexander waved his hand gently in front of Thomas’ face. His glassy eyes barely moved. It was the worst possible time for this to be happening. He pulled Thomas down behind the tree, resting his head on his lap. Alexander tried to remember what Thomas had asked him earlier.

“What’s your name?” Alexander asked Thomas shakily, looking up at Laf in desperation. Ben was wiggling where he was, trying to inch away, sensing the aura of fear that everyone emitted. Lafayette was picking up the knives, looking over to Alexander. 

“Thomas Jeff-,” Thomas whispered, his voice cracking, shaking from the effort. Alexander tried to remember what to say, gritting his teeth.

“You don’t have to speak,” Alexander said. “You can hear me, right?”

Thomas nodded. Alexander began to run a few fingers through Thomas’ hair. 

“Um, what day is it?”

Alexander paused, letting Thomas think, before Thomas nodded.

“And the year?”

Thomas nodded again.

“Month?”

Nod.

Alexander hesitated, trying to remember another one of the questions. “How old are you?” he finally asked.

“Sixteen,” Thomas said. There was a better hold on his voice now, and Alexander let out a relieved sigh.

“Season,” Alexander prompted. Lafayette gave him a warning look, handing him a knife. Alexander eyed Thomas’ spear, which was still lying close to Ben, who was looking over at the three of them.

“Let me go,” Ben hissed.

“Springtime. It’s spring. I’m good. Let me up,” Thomas said. His breathing was still erratic, but Alexander helped him up off his lap. They needed all the help they could get. Laf’s looks made sense now. He wanted to let Ben out.

The careers- more like what was left of them- came running through, their eyes landing on Ben. Alexander used the moment to run over into their line of sight, providing a distraction for Laf and Thomas. He slid onto the ashen ground, picking up the spear hesitantly and peering back at Washington and Adams. 

Washington looked intimidated, especially since his eyes were sunken in and dull, no longer having the young spark of life that existed in all of the interviews. He looked tired, more than anything else. His hands were gripping a trident, and Alexander bit back the snort that rose in his throat from seeing the weapon.

Who the fuck thought that a trident would be a good weapon for a death match between kids?

Then again, who the fuck thought a death match between kids was a good idea in the first place?

Adams was holding the spear. 

But the spear that Adams was holding? It was the spear that had gone through John. There was a bunch of dried blood at the tip. It made Alexander’s stomach flop, and he looked up helplessly.

Alexander could feel the feelings back in him, rushing through. His face tightened, and he replaced the feelings with pure rage. He let out a quick cry, rushing towards Adams, taking advantage of the shocked state. Thomas seemed to move the same time as Alexander, running up behind Washington. He hadn’t been spotted yet.

Alexander dropped Thomas’ spear on the ground, kicking it towards Jefferson, who picked it up gracefully, twirling it and facing Washington, his face devoid of emotion. He held it up, hesitating. Thomas was waiting for Washington to make the first move. It took a few more seconds, but it happened. Washington drew the trident back, jerking it in Thomas’ direction, and it was deflected with Thomas’ spear easily.

Adams swung his own spear at Alexander. Throwing it would do little from this distance, the best chance he had was to stab Alexander with it. Alexander wasn’t going to let him do that easily. He focused on the knife in his hand, focused on sidestepping and making sure that Adams didn’t have the chance to stab the spear into him.

Still, Alexander was beginning to struggle. His knife was like a toothpick against Adams' spear, and he could feel himself beginning to lose. He still pushed on, needing to keep going. It was then that he realized that John had been in the same exact situation that he was in now, and the images of John with a spear through his chest came back to Alexander. He pushed them away, replacing them with rage. 

Behind him, Laf was running over to Ben Franklin, the other knife in his hand.

"Get these ropes off, and I will do whatever you want," Ben said, looking up in desperation. Laf was merciful, quickly sawing through the ropes.

"Turn off the cameras for the rest of the arena. Now. I will hold them off," Lafayette said. Ben nodded, running his small form over to the panel, quickly meddling with the wires underneath it.

Alexander backed up a few steps. He gripped the knife, knuckles turning white, and lunged forward. Adams turned to the side to attempt to avoid the blow, but the knife still buried itself in his arm.

Adams let out a surprised yelp, looking over to the blood pouring from the wound, and then back to Alexander, still trying to put together what happened. The shock of the moment wore off, the pain setting in. He let out a piercing scream. Alexander pulled the knife out of him, turning to Washington and Jefferson. They were fighting a further away, closer to the tree that Alexander had first fallen out of. They were talking. A few of the words drifted over.

"You chose to ally yourself with these freaks instead of us?" George sneered, his voice booming. Alexander began to run over, wanting to help Thomas, who was clearly not on top of his game at the moment. His movements were stumbling, no longer as graceful as they usually were. Alexander could see the perspiration on his face.

"Yes," Thomas finally replied, though it was more of a gasp than an actual word. He was losing. Alexander could see it. Thomas could see it. And worst of all, Washington could see it. He kicked at Thomas' legs, and Thomas toppled over, looking up at Washington. He was crawling backwards, but it wasn't going to work. He knew it the moment he felt his back against a tree. Washington raised his trident towards Thomas’ neck.

Alexander ran faster.

"Join us again, Thomas. You don't need to worry about these other people. It's obvious that they're not going to win," Washington said, coolly. His tired face was calm and composed, and it irritated Alexander more than anything else. "We can put this entire thing behind us. All you have to do is say you'll join the alliance again. We can win.”

Thomas looked away for a second, seeing Alexander running towards him out of the corner of his eye. He looked back to Washington.

"Then again, it wouldn't really be us winning, would it? It would just be you," Thomas said. "I'm not joining you. Sorry."

"Bad choice," Washington said, beginning to push the trident in Thomas’ direction.

Alexander screamed, distracting Washington for a second as he looked over, hesitating in his movements. It was exactly what Alexander needed, and he tackled Washington. He hit the ground with a dull thud. There was a dull pain in Alexander’s shoulders, and he groaned. Washington started to get up, the weight of Alexander barely holding him down, but Thomas scrambled to his feet, kicking Washington in the side of his head. Washington let out a cough, before lying limp. 

Alexander took in a deep breath, nearly collapsing. He could feel Washington still breathing under him. He barely caught his breath as a new threat became evident. A hovercraft entered the sky above them. Alexander tried to backtrack. There were no cannons, which meant that there were no dead bodies to pick up.

Thomas understood before Alexander, grabbing his arm and pulling him up. 

“Come on,” he gritted, beginning to run over to where Lafayette and Ben were still messing with the wires. Ben was clearly panicking now, hearing the hovercraft in the air. Adams was whimpering on the ground a few feet away from them. Even though he was alive, he was in no position to fight, and more than anything else, he was in no position to fight four people.

The trees were giving them cover from the hovercraft, but Alexander could hear it coming closer. It probably had a way to track them down, maybe by using their heat signatures. What was clear this time was that they were prepared. And if there was one thing that Alexander, Thomas and Lafayette were, it was unprepared. They were easy kills, a bloodbath waiting to happen.

The sound grew louder.

“Is it working?” Alexander asked, fidgeting impatiently.

“Does it look like it’s working?” Ben bit back, quickly moving to fiddling with more of the wires in desperation, using the knife slice through a few of them.

“Do we even really need the cameras off at this point? We’re about to-”

He was cut off by Ben screaming, thrusting the knife into the entire apparatus. There were the sound of sparks, before the lights suddenly all turned out, shrouding them in darkness. It was silent except for the hovercraft, the usual sounds of the forest suddenly gone.

The dome above them that projected the weather had flickered out. There was no more power. The hovercraft drew closer. Alexander began to trail his hands over the ground, trying to find something to hold onto. He felt Thomas place his hand on his own.

There was suddenly a mechanical noise, and the ceiling to the dome began to open. Alexander looked up, watching as the trees were suddenly doused in light. It looked like a pie, the ceiling rolling up one piece at a time, real sunlight streaming in. The real sky was finally above them. 

It was quickly covered up by the giant shadow of the hovercraft. 

Their way out. 

Alexander looked around, trying to figure out what resources they could use. The only people who could actually fight were Thomas, Lafayette, and himself. Washington had been knocked out. Adams was still writhing in pain on the ground. Alexander stood up, groaning. They needed a way to get the redcoats, but they had no idea how many redcoats there would be, or how to attack.

Ben was sitting by the control panel, sobbing, and Lafayette was whispering words to him. Ben was nodding along, muttering words back. His sobs were beginning to slow, and Alexander felt himself relaxing as well. 

Alexander’s mind wandered to the other tributes. Where were they? They had definitely been hit with the power outage, and there was no way they would be able to miss the giant hovercraft in the air. The others would know that there was something going on here. There was a possibility that someone else would be able to get here in time. 

It was a tiny possibility, but even if someone did come, they would still be missing a plan.

“I can...um,” Ben started. “If we get into the plane, I think I could mess up their communication pieces.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Mess them up?”

“Yeah, like use the plane to send a high pitched frequency, which would probably cause them a lot of pain and stuff. Then we can try getting away,” he said, fidgeting with his hands a little bit.

“That’s the only plan we have at the moment. It’s good enough for me,” Alexander said, piecing together the rest of the plan. “Thomas and I will focus on the redcoats on the outside. You and Laf focus on getting into the hovercraft, and Laf can cover you from the redcoats on the inside of the hovercraft. Sound good?”

Everyone nodded. 

Alexander was the first to stand up. 

“Well then. May the odds be ever in our favor,” Alexander said, mocking the Capitol accent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter and this one were supposed to be together but it ended up being 5k words, so I split it. 
> 
> Plus, I really hated my writing on this chapter and the next one? But my friends said that it's the same as always? Idk
> 
> See you lovelies on Thursday!


	19. Thomas Jefferson Wrote A 5K Love Letter To A Married Woman...With His Non-Dominant Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Said married woman is Maria Cosway, who is my historical crush. The reason he had to use his non-dominant hand was because he broke his right wrist while attempting to jump over a fence. (I think that was one of the previous chapter titles)

The hovercraft touched down, the roar that had been occupying the sky suddenly dissipating. The smell of the hovercraft fuel permeated the air, cutting through the scent of the ashen forest. Alexander, Thomas, Lafayette, and Ben all held their breaths, waiting for something to happen. 

They had the dignity to pull John Adams behind a tree. He was in no shape to fight, and they weren’t just going to let him die out there, no matter how much Alexander thought he deserved it. He had also taken Adams’ spear. It provided better cover than the knife, even if he had close to no idea how to use it.

There was a hiss as the door to the hovercraft opened. The first four redcoats stepped out, their uniforms slowly blowing in the breeze, clutching their blasters. They looked around for a few seconds, figuring out where the four tributes they needed were, before beginning to march over.

“Fuck it,” Alexander said, zigzagging into the line of redcoats that had come out. All of them focused on Alexander, attempting to get a shot in and failing, each blast flying too close for comfort. Four more redcoats emerged and began to fire. Thomas ran in, zigzagging in another direction. The eight redcoats split up, a four following Alexander and four following Thomas.

Laf ran through next, using himself as a body shield for Ben as Thomas and Alexander kept the other redcoats away from the door. Ben was right on his tail, and they got into the hovercraft without much of a problem. Their issue were the redcoats inside the hovercraft. There were two at the front of the plane, probably the copilot and the pilot. There were also two more at the back.

The first redcoat to react was the one in the pilot’s seat. Laf jumped on top of her before she was able to aim the blaster, wrestling it out of her hands as she tried to recover from being knocked to the ground. He elbowed the other redcoat next to him, swinging the blaster so that it collided with their face. They stumbled backwards, falling against the control panel. Laf spun, facing the first redcoat and shooting her in the leg. 

Ben went for the two redcoats in the back, yelling has he tackled one of them and plunged his knife into their chest. They coughed a few times, blood spattering onto his face. 

It was almost done, only one redcoat left in the plane. Laf turned to see Ben about to stab her, but she grabbed his wrist, twisting it behind him. He was no match- his tiny frame being easily manhandled by the woman. She held a blaster up to his chin. 

“Put down your weapon, or I kill him,” she said, voice steady.

There was no real choice. Ben was their only way out. Without him, there was no way they would get rid of the other redcoats. It didn’t even take Lafayette a second of thought, and he dropped the weapon. He didn’t want Ben to die.

Outside, Alexander was slowly losing whatever edge he had over the redcoats, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. He felt a blast hit him in the shoulder, and he screamed, collapsing on the ground. They were almost on him, and he was slowly squirming away. It was no use. One of them, a large man, stood right over Alexander, pointing the blaster to his face. Alexander froze.

An arrow sailed through the air, the tip embedding itself into the redcoat’s right side. He turned, probably to check where the arrow had come from. It was a bad decision, because two more came whooshing through, embedding themselves in his chest. He stumbled, falling backwards, eyes remaining open.

Dead.

Alexander grabbed the blaster out of his hand, aiming it at another redcoat. He missed the first two shots, but the third one hit the redcoat in the chest and they dropped. Alexander stopped for a second. Had he killed- The redcoat began to stumble up, and Alexander sighed in relief. It didn’t last long as two more arrows sailed into the redcoat’s body. No more movement.

Dead.

Alexander swept his eyes around the forest, finding the source of the arrows. District three. Eliza Schuyler. Nothing seemed to be wrong with the communicators, which meant that Ben and Laf hadn’t gotten to that point yet. Which means they could be- 

Dead.

Alexander began to run to the plane, desperately sucking in each breath. He clutched his shoulder. Most of it was scorched and he would probably be missing feeling in his left arm for a long time. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain as much as possible, when he suddenly remembered.

Thomas.

Alexander looked back, scanning with his eyes to figure out where Thomas was. He was on the other side of Alexander, away from the hovercraft, fighting the redcoats up close. He wasn’t alone, though. There was another tribute with him, Angelica Schuyler. 

Obviously she’d be here too, there was no way that she’d leave Eliza’s side. Thomas caught Alexander’s eye, giving him a quick nod, and that was enough. 

Alexander rushed into the hovercraft, looking around and sizing up the situation. There were three redcoats on the floor: One was clutching her leg, most of which had burned off, probably from a blaster hit. Another was knocked out against the control panel, and a third was dead, blood staining their red uniforms.

The situation that caused Alexander to freeze was the fact that Laf was putting down his weapon, and a redcoat had their blaster aimed at Ben’s head. Alexander didn’t hesitate, pointing his own blaster downwards and aiming for the legs with a few blasts. The first one hit Ben, but the second one hit the redcoat, and she jerked away, hissing in pain. Alexander shot another blast at her hip, causing her to fall.

He reached forward, grabbing onto Ben and pulling him towards the control panel. 

“Sorry about your leg,” Alexander said, voice racing. “Jam the communications. Most of the redcoats are dead, you don’t need to worry about that. Just make sure they can’t contact the Capitol for backup,” Alexander said. Ben nodded, wincing in pain. He’d be able to get pain meds back in the colonies.

Laf and Alexander focused on taking the redcoats that were in the hovercraft and dumping them outside in the arena. They didn’t need dead weight when making their escape, and they didn’t want trouble from the redcoats. 

“Done,” Ben said, looking over. “The Capitol thinks that the hovercraft doesn’t work anymore, which means they won’t be expecting our escape.”

They were almost out of the woods. They just needed the rest of the tributes to get on.

“Do we know how to fly a hovercraft?” Laf asked, and Ben and Alexander looked over with identical expressions, shaking their heads. 

“Well shit.”

“Merde. We are going to die here.”

They all looked at each other silently for a few seconds, before Ben burst out into a fit of giggles. Lafayette was the next one to laugh. They were going to die here. Alexander chuckled dryly. This was fucking perfect.

The remaining three redcoats outside had scattered. One of them was fighting Thomas, both of them at a stalemate, clutching blasters and slowly circling each other, neither making the first move. Another redcoat was in the middle of a fistfight with Angelica, and Angelica was clearly winning. It was futile struggle at this point. The third was making their way to Eliza, who was trying to sneak towards the hovercraft. 

Angelica finally managed to get the right hook in, a cracking noise sounding from the jaw of the redcoat. She gave him another kick as he fell, crumpling on the ground. She picked up the blaster, shooting the redcoat that was circling Thomas. He looked at her, surprise on his face. Angelica rolled her eyes.

“You weren’t killing her anytime soon,” Angelica said. Thomas shook his head, beginning to run towards the hovercraft. Angelica beat him inside, sliding into the pilot’s seat. Thomas was about to get in, but remembered John Adams, still in the field. He broke away from the hovercraft, running back out to get him. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Angelica said, pressing a few of the buttons, causing the hovercraft to start up again.

“What about Thomas?” Alexander asked.

“He ran back out himself. That’s-” she started, before stopping, looking around. “Where’s Eliza?”

“Back outside,” Alexander said, and he could see it in Angelica’s eyes. They weren’t leaving until Eliza got on. “I’m going to get her.”

“Mon ami-”

Alexander didn’t let Laf finish, jumping out of the hovercraft and running over to Eliza, who was beginning to lose the battle against the other redcoat. She was out of arrows, he was about to get her. Alexander quickly shot the redcoat with the blaster a few times, not paying much attention in desperation. He grabbed Eliza’s hand, beginning to turn on his heel and run back towards the hovercraft.

There was a sudden shadow as the dome above them began to close. There wouldn’t be enough space to get out within a few seconds. The longer they stayed on the ground, the less time they would have to get out. The Capitol definitely knew that something was wrong by now, or they wouldn’t bother closing the dome.

The whirring sound was louder now, and the hovercraft was beginning to take off. Thomas and Adams had just gotten on, and Alexander could see Thomas waving at him to run faster. They were only a few feet off the ground, but that few feet would soon become an impossible distance. Alexander ran faster, the hovercraft getting closer and closer. The bottom of the craft was now at chest level.

It was too high up for Alexander to jump onto it. Still, he tried, reaching up and jumping as high as he could. It wouldn’t work. Alexander knew it wouldn’t. He could feel Eliza doing the same, still clasping his hand. Both of their hands were clammy with sweat, and the feeling that it was over. However, right before Alexander could touch the ground, another hand grabbed onto him from inside the hovercraft. 

There was a dull ache in Alexander’s arm as he was pulled up. He looked down at Eliza, holding her hand as tight as possible. But he could feel the grip slipping, the feeling in his fingers slowly wearing out, sweat causing his fingers to slip. He willed himself to grip tighter.

The hovercraft suddenly lurched upwards, and Alexander’s entire body was lifted three feet off of the ground. He was dangling in midair, grip slowly slipping in both directions. Eliza was barely off the ground, and Alexander knew that he was ruining their chances of getting out if he continued to hold on. He did it anyway, making sure the grip on her hand was as strong as possible.

Eliza seemed to realize this fact a few seconds after Alexander, looking up at him with a determined look. The hovercraft rose some more, and she took a deep breath.

“Tell my sister I love her,” she yelled, voice piercing the whir of the hovercraft.

Alexander shook his head frantically, words failing him.

Eliza let go, falling onto the soft grass, still looking up at the hovercraft. 

Alexander was immediately hoisted in, the extra weight gone. He panted a few times, trying to catch his breath.

“Are they in?” Angelica asked, the hovercraft still slowly rising.

Alexander shook his head. No, they weren’t both in. Eliza was still in the arena. Thomas ignored the motion.

“Yes,” Thomas said. Alexander’s eyes widened and the door shut, sealing them in. The sound of the hovercraft was suddenly silenced, and there was an uneasy quiet inside the craft. It wouldn’t last long. Angelica would figure out that Eliza wasn’t here, and who knew how that would end? The hovercraft swished out of the arena, the dome locking closed beneath them. There were still three people in the arena. 

“No,” Alexander countered. Thomas glared at him with an incredulous look that screamed why would you do that? He ignored it, sighing. Might as well face the chaos now. “Eliza’s not here. She let go.”

“What?” Angelica asked, and everyone in the hovercraft stilled for a second, looking at Alexander with mixed expressions of shock and anger and fear.

“She let go,” Alexander said, sighing. “She wanted us to get out. There was no way we’d have been able to make it out in time if she had held on.”

There was a silence again, and Alexander found himself biting the inside of his mouth, waiting for a response. The eyes had moved from Alexander to Angelica, everyone waiting with bated breath for a response.

“We could’ve gone back,” she said, voice sounding determined at first. It cracked in the middle, the emotion falling through. “We could’ve-”

“No,” Alexander said, trying to keep his voice gentle. He hated how he had to be the one to do this. He took a deep breath. “We got out just in time. If we waited any longer, we would still be trapped in that arena,”

There was silence again. Angelica sighed, probably realizing that there would be nothing gained from beginning an argument. The only sound was the low hum of the hovercraft, still slowly rising, and the sporadic clicks that would come from the control panel of the hovercraft as Angelica flew it. Nobody said anything. There wasn’t much to say.

At some point, Alexander had moved from his position on the floor into one of the seats that lined the sides of the hovercraft, slumping down a seat away from Thomas. Ben and Laf were sitting next to each other across from Alexander and Thomas. Adams was sleeping in one of the seats.

There were six of them in the hovercraft: Ben, Laf, Adams, Thomas, Alexander, and Angelica. They had left three in the arena: Eliza, Washington, and the tribute from Colony 9. Alexander could barely remember her face. It didn’t seem like it would matter when he had first seen her, but now he wanted to know who she was, what her name was, how others would see her. It was unfair.

There was almost no chance of the people who they had left behind getting back. Alexander suddenly understood why Thomas had gone back for John Adams. He sighed. 

Nobody wanted to break the silence. 

Ben was sleeping against Laf’s shoulder, scrunched up into a little ball. Every now and then his brows would furrow and he would let out a string of unintelligible mumbles. It didn’t seem like an easy sleep. Laf had his arm around him, gently rubbing circles into Ben’s shoulder. 

Thomas looked down at Alexander, asking a silent question with his eyes. Alexander sighed, nodding that he was okay. He wasn’t okay. Then again, nobody else in the plane was okay, either. 

Thomas stood up, switching to the seat right next to Alexander. He wrapped his arm around Alexander’s shoulders, pulling him against his side. Alexander sighed, letting his eyes close, relishing the warmth of the body next to him.

It was finally over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standardized testing has left me half dead all week. I am done™
> 
> I don't even remember what happens in this chapter. I've lost all concept of time. 
> 
> I think I modeled one part off of the Election of 1800? That could've been the last chapter idfk 
> 
> Also I fell off my bike, but I got both wheels off the ground and felt like a badass. The con is that the entire left side of my body hates me and I have abrasions that are leaking yellow liquid.
> 
> Thanks for forcing me to the nurse, Cece. Someday you'll read this. (Probably)
> 
> See you guys on Sunday! (if diving practice doesn't kill me)


	20. Angelica Wrote To Jefferson To Tell Washington To Help Lafayette Out Of Prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god it's not a depressing chapter  
> You surprised?
> 
> This is as close to a filler chapter as I get. Shit still happens, but it's filler between more shit happening. Have fun.
> 
> ALSO HOLY SHIT 50k WORDS AND 150 KUDOS DONE AND DONE

The silence was broken by Angelica, who at some point realized that if nobody else was going to step up, she was going to.

“Where are we supposed to be flying to?” she finally asked. Her voice was strong, but there was a little waver in it. Everyone looked at each other for a few seconds, all seeming to debate the question in their own heads, nobody coming up with an answer. Alexander didn’t even know where they were. There was no way he’d have any information on where they were going.

The only other person who was awake was Thomas, and the eyes landed on him. He scratched the side of his head, understanding the situation and trying to get to a conclusion. It didn’t seem to be working, and the inside of the hovercraft was about to fall into another unbreakable silence.

“Where are we?” Alexander asked, trying to keep up some form of discussion. He knew that he was talking, but it didn’t feel like it. His voice seemed to be a million miles away. It didn’t even sound like the voice he was used to.

“The Capitol sets up the arena in the middle of the ocean somewhere. Northeast of District 13.” A pause. “Well, what used to be District 13,” Thomas said.

Nobody really talked about District 13 anymore. Alexander knew the basic story: When the colonies had first rebelled against the Capitol, they had completely decimated District 13 as an example to the other colonies. District 13 had been the ones that produced the weapons. Without them, there was no way to fight. The rest of the colonies had to surrender. The Hunger Games started. The rest was history.

“We’re definitely in the middle of the fucking ocean,” Angelica said, frustration edging her voice. She kicked under the control panel. “And we’re almost out of fuel.”

Angelica came from District 3. They were in charge of the technology. She knew how to fly the hovercraft because her father was the one who had made the control panels in the first place. He was one of the richest men in the colonies. He had distributed much of his wealth among the people in his colony. Probably where Eliza had gotten her giving spirit from. The guilt began to hit him again.

That’s another person not to think about.

Philip Schuyler’s money was still nothing compared to what the citizens in the Capitol owned. Were they just oblivious to the overwhelming poverty that surrounded them? Or did they just not give a fuck?

Thomas stood up, walking to the front of the plane and sitting down besides Angelica. Alexander immediately missed the warmth of having someone next to him. He tracked Thomas with his eyes, watching him sink into the copilot’s seat.

“Wow,” Thomas whispered, looking outside.

Alexander followed him, standing behind his seat, looking out at the world. There was blue. There was blue everywhere. There was a mass of water beneath them- deep blue with an occasional rainbow glimmer that was probably oil. The neverending sky stretched out all around them, dotted with white cotton candy clouds. It was perfect. Serene. He had never seen anything like it before.

Alexander sat down on the arm of Thomas’ chair, looking out towards the world. Everything seemed fine for just this one moment. He imagined being outside, touching the clouds, the water underneath him. He could forget about the games, about Eliza, about John-

He snapped back to reality.

“We still need a place to go,” Alexander said.

“And we’re almost out of fuel. We need a decision now, so that we can get there without wasting any more flying in circles around the arena,” Angelica said, taking in a deep breath and gushing it out.

“We could touch down on District 13,” Thomas suggested. “I mean, unless one of you guys have a better idea. It’s barren land, the Capitol can’t find us there. We could probably find a way to hide for a while, come back when we actually have a plan.”

Angelica thought for a second, before answering. “Works for me.”

“Yeah,” Alexander said. “Let’s go.”

“Did you say the arena was southeast of the mainland?” Angelica asked.

Thomas nodded. Angelica hit a few of the buttons, clutching the throttle and turning them in the right direction. The hovercraft slowly leaned to the side, cutting through the air. Alexander leaned with the hovercraft, resting his weight on Thomas, letting out a small sigh. 

A while passed like there, everyone sitting in silence, trying to forget the fact that they were trying to kill each other two hours ago. And when Alexander thought about it, it really wasn’t their fault. It was the Capitol who had put them in that arena. It was the Capitol that had told them to kill, and they had done it. The Capitol had all the power. There was nothing else they could do.

Now they were just a bunch of kids floating in a hovercraft, trying to start something. 

There was no way to start something.

The coast of a piece of gray land slowly began to crawl towards them in the distance. It snaked across the water, jagged inlets and outlets becoming visible. The land was flattened and barren, a solemn gray color. As the hovercraft came closer, Alexander could see why. 

Ashes. 

It coated the entire ground in a layer of dust. The ground ebbed up and down, with no prominent details. It was a wasteland.

The hovercraft began to beep, a persistent blaring coming from one of the blinking monitors on the screen. Angelica let a little breath out, face scrunching up.

“We’re being fired at,” she said, gritting her teeth. 

“What?” Alexander asked, the information not registering. There was suddenly a loud blast, and the entire craft jerked to the side. Adams fell out of his seat, hitting the floor with a groan. Ben and Laf were both up, trying to figure out what the situation was.

Who would be firing at them? The Capitol had no way of knowing where they were. There wouldn’t be anyone else in the middle of nowhere, right?

There was another blast.

The hovercraft began to sink, struggling to remain in its place in the sky. Alexander could see Angelica frantically pressing buttons, trying to get the vessel back up. It wasn’t working. 

“Hold onto something,” she yelled, grabbing onto the armrests of her chair, completely abandoning her attempts to keep them in the air. Thomas grabbed onto the armrest that Alexander wasn’t sitting on. Alexander slipped off the chair, stumbling to the back of the vehicle and buckling himself into one of the seats and curling into a ball to shield himself as much as possible.

Ben, Laf, and Adams did the same, bracing for the inevitable impact. It finally came, the craft plunging onto the ground with a horrible screeching noise. Alexander hit his head against the back of the seat as the craft suddenly stopped. There was an incessant throb in Alexander’s head, numbing his senses. Deep breaths were the only noise heard for a little bit, everyone trying to catch their breaths.

Suddenly, the back of the hovercraft burst into flames. Alexander could feel the heat against his face, the fames beginning to leap at him. Ben yelped, scrambling from his position to the door of the hovercraft. Laf followed him, kicking open the door.

Alexander was about to leave too, until he saw John Adams, still clutching his head, the flames beginning to climb towards him. He grit his teeth his teeth, making a split second decision. Adams had killed John. 

Alexander took a deep breath, running towards Adams’ trembling form. He draped his arms under Adams’ armpits, pulling him away from the fire. The smoke wafted into his lungs, and he coughed, pushing tears out of his eyes. He continued to pull Adams’ limp body out of the fire, until he got to the wide open door. 

Alexander jumped out, crashing to the ground with Adams on top of his legs. He continued to pull, getting away from the flaming pile of metal. The ashes mixed with the smell of the smoke, and Alexander coughed more, wanting to get the scent out of his system. It reminded him too much of the games. Of everything he lost. He dropped Adams, not having the strength to pull him any further.

There was another explosion, and the hovercraft was no more. 

Alexander’s eyes scanned the barren gray for everyone else. He knew that Laf and Ben had gotten out. But what about the others? He collapsed to the ground, staring up at the sky. It had turned an ominous gray.

Thomas’ face appeared over him, and he could feel arms being wrapped around him in a hug. Alexander coughed a few more times from the pressure against his chest. Thomas let go, holding Alexander up with one of his hands.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Thomas demanded. “I thought you were dead. Again.”

“Surprise,” Alexander croaked out, a giggle leaving his lips. The world was still spinning. The ringing in his ears was back. He groaned.

“Guys, someone’s coming,” someone said. It took a moment for Alexander to register that it was Angelica speaking. She sounded exhausted, but there was a note of panic in her voice. “There are many people coming.”

Great. They had come this far, and now they were suddenly getting stopped by the Capitol, who had somehow managed to find them here, despite everything. Alexander groaned again, pushing off of Thomas and standing up.

There was a layer of soot in all of their hair. Alexander could barely stand, swaying to the side. Ben was having a coughing fit, Laf gently rubbing his back and trying to talk to him. Adams was half dead on the floor. Thomas was standing next to Alexander, and Angelica was a little bit standing in front of them, looking at the group of people who were slowly approaching. All of them had abandoned their weapons in the burning plane. They had no way to fight.

There were around twenty people approaching them. Alexander couldn’t keep his focus long enough to actually count them, and it didn’t seem like it would matter. It looked like they had weapons. There was no way that their ragtag group of barely alive, malnourished tributes would actually be able to fight against them.

Who were they, anyway? They didn’t have the signature red coats that would differentiate them as Capitol soldiers. The answer to that question would be a lot easier to answer if they stopped taking their sweet damn time to march over dramatically.

Alexander took a deep breath, steeling himself and walking forward as best as he could. He stood next to Angelica, waiting for something to happen.

“Alexander?” he heard. The voice was familiar. He had heard it somewhere before. He stumbled a little closer. Everyone knew his name, he reasoned. This could be anyone. Still, he walked forward, testing the waters. The rest of the tributes held their breaths. 

One of the people in the line began running towards them, and Alexander winced away, anticipating an attack. He reached for his knife, before realizing he didn’t have it. He shut his eyes, taking a step back. Instead, he got enveloped in a hug. 

“I thought you were dead,” the woman said, squeezing him tighter. Alexander coughed. It took a few seconds for him to place exactly where he had remembered the voice from.

“Mercy?” he asked, opening his eyes and looking at her. There were creases across Mercy’s face, worry lines that snaked their way across. The old spark in her eyes was slightly dulled. She looked tired. She nodded, cupping Alexander’s face in her hands, studying him.

“You look a lot older, Alex.”

“So do you,” Alexander whispered back.

Mercy nodded, letting out a deep sigh. She let go of Alexander, turning back towards the people who had been following her.

“Stand down, they’re our allies,” she announced. The entire row of people lowered their guns. She faced Alexander again, straightening her back to her usual confident stance. “Follow me.”

Alexander nodded, turning back to everyone else. He walked over to Adams, hoisting him onto his back. Thomas walked over, slinging one of Adams’ hands over his shoulder and looping the other over Alexander, so that the weight was distributed. It was a little awkward, especially with the height difference, but it did the job.

“You know them?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah,” Alexander said, short of breath from the effort of carrying Adams. “They’re going to help us.”

Thomas sighed, and Alexander could tell he was holding back something.

“Okay,” he finally said.

Alexander gestured at everyone to follow him, and they set off, following Mercy and the others.

They were finally out of the games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOMEONE DREW ME FANART. I DONT KNOW WHY I DIDNT POST IT AT THE END OF THE LAST CHAPTER (probably because I was very out of it) BUT HERE IT IS: https://frillyscribles.tumblr.com/post/160416948470/hamilton-angst-fuck-i-am-in-love-with-your-fic  
> GO SUPPORT THEM!!!
> 
> (And for anyone interested, I'm flattered by any form of art that you do for this AU or fic. Just send it to me so I can see it! Thanks!)
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and Kudos and support this far! You have all been amazing.


	21. Cosway introduced Jefferson to Angelica IRL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewritten chapter!!

“Alexander?” 

Thomas’ voice cut through the low hum of the generators around Alexander, and he was brought back to the present. He curled away from the noise, tucking himself as much as he could between the wall and the machine. Alexander could feel the subtle vibrations against his back, and they were the only thing keeping him in the present right now. Every now and then, he would let his surroundings fade out, letting the entire world drift around him. He’d be removed from it all.

It had been a week since they had left the games. It was nothing like what Alexander had expected. He used to think it would be over after the games ended- and life would go back to normal. Maybe things would be easier, especially with the extra money that was given to those who won. Then again, he hadn’t been expecting to win the games. He hadn’t been expecting to get out alive. Still, here he was.

Life wasn’t getting any easier.

Adams had been in the hospital for the past week. Nobody talked about him. His legs were burned, probably ever coming back, and his arm was lost to him. That had been Alexander’s fault. It hurt to think about it.

Ben and Laf stayed glued together. Alexander liked seeing them together. They were already really close friends within a week. 

Angelica- well, she seemed to be fine. That’s what she told everybody. But Alexander had seen her searching through the pills in the medbay when he had been checking on Adams. She wasn’t okay. When their eyes met, she pulled out the right container, walking right past Alexander back into the musty hallway. They didn’t talk about it again. 

She had a lot to worry about. She didn’t know whether Eliza was alive or dead. She didn’t know if Eliza was being tortured. She didn’t know where Eliza was. It was all she could think about anymore. She’d try to have a conversation, but Alexander could feel it in her mind. 

"Alexander, I know that you're in here," Thomas said, and Alexander slipped out of whatever state he had been in, his surroundings beginning to sharpen again around him. The hum of the generator became clear again. He hugged himself tighter, trying to make himself smaller. He didn't want to talk to anyone else. He just wanted to be alone. Why couldn't anyone understand that?

Every second, it seemed like someone would be there, asking him if he was okay, if he needed anything. Alexander flinched every time, trying to get away. The questions were overwhelming. Everything was overwhelming. He would always say that he was okay, and they would leave.

He was not okay.

Then again, neither was anyone else, so it didn't seem to matter anyway. 

He never stopped to ask himself what had been going on outside the games. War. That's what it had been. It never seemed to stop. He could see the broadcasts flashing on the television. The stories came out. The Hunger Games had completely stopped broadcasting sometime before the hovercraft attacked. 

People knew that something was wrong. 

The Capitol had lost their illusion of control.

A rebellion had started.

Maybe that’s what he was hoping for in the beginning, but he didn’t realize what a war would mean. Besides, if there was to be a war, he didn’t expect to be part of it. It wasn’t just the six of them suffering, it was every citizen in the colonies. 

Eleven of those, now. Colony 12 was gone. 

The pamphlets released as planned. There were some things that they couldn’t put into the pamphlets, though. For example: an instruction manual on how to run a revolution. People wanted to rebel, and the pamphlets motivated them. Citizens began sneaking and meeting with people in other districts, trying to set up a force. 

Some at the border of 11 and 12 were found by redcoats. They were dead now. Nobody could do anything about it. The Capitol began to investigate the pamphlets. They traced it back to Paine. Nobody had heard from Paine since. Mercy ran soon after that, knowing that they would find her too. She ended up in Colony 12, as far away from the crown as possible. 

After the Capitol announced Alexander’s “death,” there was rebellion in Colony 12. The Capitol’s response was to bomb them. The Capitol knew that their reputation as caring leaders, or whatever bullshit Seabury said, was gone. Now they just used fear to stay in power. 

Colony 13 had been there all along. Colony 13 saved the refugees that were still alive. That was how Mercy ended up here. Alexander’s home was ash. Alexander didn’t have many friends, but most of them were ash, too.

“Alexander, please,” Thomas called. There was a pause. “I’m going to find you.”

Alexander sighed, unfurling himself from the hiding spot and walking into the dim lights of the generator room. Every now and then, they would flicker, plunging the room into darkness for a split second before they came back on. It was a good hiding place because nobody wanted to be here. Ever.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” Alexander yelled. 

He walked to the entrance of the room, his footsteps masked by the constant whirring around him. Thomas was leaning against the doorframe, looking at his nails with as much disinterest as he could muster. Alexander could see the worry on his face anyway. 

“You okay?” Thomas asked.

“What type of idiotic question is that?” Alexander replied. Nobody was okay.

“The type everyone keeps asking,” Thomas said, offering a hand to Alexander. Alexander took it, and they began walking down the hallway together. Thomas sighed softly. “How are you?”

Alexander shrugged. “Same as you, probably. How long did you stall this time?”

“Ten minutes,” Thomas answered. “Wish I could give you more.”

“I appreciate those minutes,” Alexander responded, smiling softly. He kissed Thomas’ shoulder, leaning against him a little bit. “What do they need me for this time?”

“Martha wants to speak with you,” Thomas answered. 

“Hopefully not about the weather,” Alexander muttered. “Again.”

Thomas opened the right door for Alexander. 

Martha was sitting in the room, a her huge television-star grin on display. Alexander waved at her and sat down in a chair across from her. There were two other people there. Mercy, who was waving back at Alexander, and some other girl who was having a conversation with Thomas entirely through glances. 

“So, how’s the weather been?” Martha asked. 

Alexander shot Thomas a look. 

Asking about the weather was stupid. Martha knew that Alexander hadn’t been out in a while. Alexander didn’t know what the weather was like. 

Thomas held up his hands, shrugging. He left the room. Alexander knew he’d probably be waiting outside anyway. 

The room was way too big for the four people it contained. They were all sitting at a rectangular table that looked like it could fit twelve people. Four people was too little. All the empty seats seemed taunting. A reminder of who couldn’t be there. There was a large screen covering one of the walls. 

He snapped back into the present.

“I don’t know,” Alexander responded. 

Martha shrugged, standing up. “Well, the Capitol recently released this clip.”

Eliza’s face suddenly filled the screen. His final memory of Eliza was when she let go of his hand. He took a second to get the image out of his head, focusing on the Eliza that was now in front of him. There was no longer dirt covering her face. Her skin was clear and pristine. Her hair was clean and perfectly straight, falling from her head in a smooth cascade. She looked like she did before the games.

Alexander looked to Mercy. She nodded. 

This was Eliza.

He expected the Capitol to have done something different to the tributes in the arena. Not… cleaning them up. Eliza looked healthier, too. Her face was round instead of bony, and her cheeks had color in them.

There seemed to be almost no trace of the Hunger Games. She had been fixed.

"Hello, citizens of the colonies," she said, the smile staying on her face. 

“What’s she doing?” Alexander asked.

Mercy just nodded to the clip.

"My name is Elizabeth Schuyler, from Colony 3," Eliza continued. "I'm here to say that I'm alright and that I'm at the Capitol. Their hospitality is limitless, and they have been kind enough to allow me to give a message to the rebels."

Something was definitely going on.

"Don't fight. Put down your weapons. The last thing that we need is more death. The Capitol has been amazing for us so far. We should be thankful for their generosity, not trying to rebel against them. It would only lead to mistakes, like Colony 13."

Alexander scoffed. Eliza would probably never say that in real life, especially after she had skewered multiple redcoats in an attempt to get out of the games. It was probably the Capitol forcing her to say it, or something similar. Alexander leaned back into his seat. "You've got to be kidding me.”

"We think it's fake too," the-girl-Alexander-didn’t-know supplied.

Alexander looked back up at her. "Has anyone here seen it?"

"A few people. We intend to show it to the rest soon," she answered. "But more importantly, we need a way to retaliate. If the people only see what the Capitol is sending them, then we're going to get nowhere. If you lie enough to someone, they start believing the lies."

Alexander nodded. If they were just showing him this video, and keeping it from everyone else, that would mean they needed him for something. "What do you want from me?"

Mercy sighed. Martha answered. “You'd be the perfect face to use if we were to retaliate.”

“The perfect face?” Alexander asked, hesitant. He felt trapped, rooted to his seat. He wanted to get out, wanted to go back to being alone. His surroundings seemed to faze out of focus for a second, and he struggled to stay rooted in the real world. He needed Thomas right now.

“If we did the same thing that the Capitol was doing, and released our own propos, we might be able to counteract the effect that the Capitol has. We might be able to expose them.”

Alexander’s eyes swept the room, focusing on a few random objects, trying to stay in reality. It wasn’t really working, and he could feel himself beginning to drift off again. He liked the hum of the generators. They kept him rooted. There was nothing familiar here, though. 

John was familiar. He missed John’s hugs and John’s writing and John’s sketches. John was gone, though. Everything was so far away-

“Alexander,” Mercy said, shaking his shoulder.

Alexander blinked and looked at her, trying to remember what was going on.

“You know you can get stuff from the medbay if you need it, right?” 

Alexander nodded again, letting out a sigh. He was probably not going to the medbay anytime soon. Whatever he had would pass. It didn’t matter much. He could probably talk to Thomas later.

“As much as I would hate to mess with whatever’s going on here,” the girl started, not looking the least bit sorry. “We do have something important to attend to.”

Alexander looked over at her, trying to figure out who exactly thought they were more important than what was going on right now. She was relaxed in her seat, long black hair in a braid. There was a look of calculated disinterest on her face. “Who’re you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

Alexander shook his head. 

“It’s a wonder you survived the games,” she hummed, kicking her legs onto the table. “Honestly, I don’t think you can do the propos.”

“Propos?” Alexander asked.

She smirked. “Exactly.”

Mercy shot her an annoyed look. “Alexander, dear, we wanted to know if you’d be willing to be in propos against the Capitol, so that we can counteract what they’re doing with our own propaganda?”

Alexander’s brain caught up. “Why me?” 

“Exactly, why him?” mystery bitch asked.

Alexander scowled. “You know what, I’m doing them.”

Mercy shook her head and muttered something.

Martha grinned. “Perfect.”

Alexander threw a smirk back at Cosway and walked out. Thomas was waiting, as expected. Alexander took Thomas’ hand again, smiling.

“What did they talk about, darling?” Thomas asked.

“Wanted me to be in propaganda against the Capitol,” Alexander answered. “Or write them. I have no idea. I zoned out.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You could’ve asked them to explain again, they aren’t evil.”

“You hang out with Martha all the time. Maybe you’re evil too,” Alexander said, grinning at Thomas. 

Thomas scoffed. “You’re just mad I have a life, and you hide in the generator room all day.”

Alexander kicked Thomas‘ leg, sticking his tongue out. “There was this one girl there. Like, a little bit older than you. She’s-”

“Wait, Maria Cosway? Oh my god, yes. You’re bi, right? She’s so amazing, ugh,” Thomas said. “Isn’t she beautiful?” 

“Um…”

“I’ve wanted to meet her forever! I had no idea she was here,” Thomas added. “And we’re friends now! It’s awesome!”

“I’ve never heard of her,” Alexander said. 

“I’ve had a huge crush on her for a year,” Thomas said. “You have no idea.”

Alexander stared at him. 

Thomas blushed. “Yeah uh….”

“I think I have an idea now, if that’s anything,” Alexander said, laughing softly. “Who is she?”

“She won the Hunger Games before ours,” Thomas said. 

“Ah.”

They left it at that. Thomas had a different view of the games than Alexander. They both got food and sat down at their usual table. Ben and Laf were already there, and seemed to be having a whispered conversation. 

The past few days had been especially bad for Laf. His brother had passed away. He didn’t look the same anymore, and he clung to Ben all the time. 

Alexander sat down across from them. “Hey,” he murmured. 

Thomas sat down next to Alexander, nodding and looking down. He and Laf were never on the best times. Laf nodded to acknowledge their presence. 

“I hate people,” Ben muttered.

“Agreed,” Alexander said, beginning to eat. 

Angelica hurried over and sat down on the other side of Alexander. “How are you doing?”

“Better,” Alexander answered. “You?”

“I’ve been doing well,” Angelica said. “How about you, Thomas?”

Angelica always did this, made sure each individual person was okay. Alexander loved that about her. She asked everyone around the table. 

Laf eventually picked Ben up. “We’re going to head to the game room.”

“Put me down, you ostrich,” Ben muttered, wrapping his arms around Laf.

They walked off. 

Alexander chuckled. “Guess it’s just us now.”

“I don’t know how Laf does it,” Angelica said, leaning on Alexander.

“Does what?” Alexander asked. 

“Stays like that even after his brother…” She faded out. “Eliza’s gone. I can’t even come to terms with it. It’s like… I can’t accept that she’s dead. I keep expecting her to be right there.”

Alexander gently wrapped an arm around her. “I’m pretty sure your sister’s alive.”

“The Capitol’s has her for a week. I doubt it.”

“They can’t kill her. Not after the video.”

“The video?” Angelica asked. 

“Alexander, shut up,” Thomas whispered. 

Alexander hummed. “That’d be bad publicity. They’re trying to rebuild their benevolent image.”

Angelica looked towards Thomas for a quick second before her eyes rested on Alexander again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Martha had said that some people had seen the video. Alexander had assumed that included Angelica. It’d have to include Angelica, right? She was Eliza’s sister. She cared so much for Eliza. 

“She didn’t know about the video, Alexander,” Thomas whispered. 

“Wait, they have information on my sister, and they didn’t tell me?”

“Maybe they were going to tell you after lunch?” Alexander asked. “I just found out about it right before.”

“The broadcast is a few days old,” Thomas hissed. 

“How do you know?” Angelica snapped, looking up at Thomas. 

Alexander looked up at Thomas too, shifting away a little bit. 

Thomas bit his lip. 

“It’s just the same old shit, isn’t it?” Angelica asked, standing up. “Whether it’s here or back in the colonies. They’re messing with the information flow. Just like the Capitol. I thought I could trust you, Thomas.”

She snatched her tray up from the table and left. 

Alexander groaned, looking at Thomas. “Spill.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This originally said I reopened my wound dancing to Schuyler Sisters in a light up fedora and a cape. Good times.  
> (They really weren't. It also said I was losing my motivation, and at that point in time, I was just... in a bad spot and my writing suffered greatly because of it. Hence, the rewriting!)


	22. A Bunch of Federalists Wanted to Rename New York City "Hamiltoniana"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You might be a fan of Hamilton but I doubt you were so much of a fan that you wanted to rename New York City.

“Martha showed me a few days ago,” Thomas murmured.

“How many?” Alexander snapped.

“Five.”

“Did you know about the propos?” 

“Yes, I was there when they decided to go forward with it,” Thomas said. “Alexander, I really didn’t mean-”

“We’re supposed to be a team!” 

Thomas just looked at Alexander wordlessly, not saying anything. Alexander glared right back at him. Thomas shook his head. “You weren’t in the best state of mind, I didn’t want to be one of the people using you-”

“They are using me! They’re still using me, Thomas. Maybe if you actually kept us informed, this would go better,” Alexander said. 

“I didn’t want to pile more on top of you. You aren’t doing well, Alex-”

“And you are?” Alexander asked.

There was silence for a few seconds.

“I’m doing better than you,” Thomas said softly.

“I trusted you,” Alexander said. “Angelica trusted you too.”

Thomas nodded, looking completely beat down. Alexander picked up his abandoned food, shoving it in the garbage and heading out. He ended up tucking himself in the generator room as usual. It was easier to breathe there. It felt safe. He could think in peace.

The kept his back against the generator, feeling the soft vibrations travel through his spine. He needed to think.

Alexander had assumed that the tributes that had survived the Hunger Games would at least be sticking together. Everyone seemed to be in a completely different spot, though. Nobody seemed to mesh anymore. Everyone was broken up.

Alexander at least expected the news from Thomas. He wasn’t really mad, he supposed. Just disappointed. Lonely, now. Expected to have Thomas on his side. Now he felt like he had nobody. The person he’d been trusting the most was fading away. Alexander tried not to think about it too much.

Think about something else.

Alexander thought about all the people here that viewed him as a hero. 

More pressure.

Thomas had a crush.

Ah, that wasn’t that much better, was it?

Something else, then.

Hey, maybe you can think about J-

no.

Alexander tried to look past the fact he was having a conversation with himself. In his head. He didn’t really have anyone else to talk to.

“Hamilton!” The voice cut through the calming generators the same was Thomas’ usually did. That wasn’t Thomas, though. “Ha. mil. ton.”

The voice was slightly familiar, but Alexander couldn’t place it. It was a woman, he knew that much. Not Angelica.

“Here, Hammy, Hammy!” A second later, “I sound stupid.”

Alexander scowled slightly. “You really do,” he called back.

“Could you come out?”

“No,” Alexander responded. “Go away.”

The footsteps started to get closer. She was using his voice to figure out where he was. Alexander didn’t want anyone knowing. He crawled out and walked towards the footsteps. It was Cosway. 

She looked him over, a small frown on her lips. “You alright?”

“Why do you care?” Alexander snapped.

Her face hardened. “I don’t.”

“Cool.”

They stared at each other. Cosway kept her arms crossed.

“Need something?” Alexander asked.

“Thomas was worried about you,” Cosway answered. “And, uh, we’re filming propos as soon as you’re ready.”

Alexander nodded.

“So, are you ready?” Cosway asked.

“You’re probably just going to be pissy if I say I’m not,” Alexander muttered.

Cosway rolled her eyes. “They’re taking a kid that’s clearly suffering from PTSD, anxiety, and maybe even depression and they’re putting you in front of cameras and broadcasting you to all the colonies and the Capitol for use in a propaganda war.”

Alexander looked at her. “Don’t tell me you feel bad for me.”

Cosway chuckled. “I feel bad for anyone who gets involved with Martha’s plans.”

Alexander scowled. “At least she’s doing something.”

“You shouldn’t trust her,” Cosway said. “She’s sneaky and she’s manipulative.”

“How do I know you’re not trying to turn me against her?” Alexander asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I was in the same position as you a year ago, you realize that?” Cosway asked. “Besides, that was the first time I’d seen the video with Eliza. Right before you came in. Don’t you think everyone here has a right to that information?”

“Yes,” Alexander answered. “You’ve read my pamphlets?”

Cosway nodded. “Could’ve been better.”

Alexander scowled.

“You talked about the Capitol and how they controlled the media to stay in power,” Cosway said. “But that’s exactly what’s happening here. Martha’s doing the same thing, just not as obvious. They say you like your pamphlets, and then use it in their own way to screw things up even more.”

Alexander sighed. “And?”

“She’s going to be furthering her plans in your name if you go up there,” Cosway said. “And everyone loves you. She’s going to use you and make it seem like you’re endorsing everything she’s doing.”

“Let’s pretend I trust you- which I don’t,” Alexander muttered. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

Cosway shrugged. “I haven’t figured that out yet. I had a plan if I were the one in the propos, which would’ve happened if you said no to the proposal.”

Alexander nodded. “Well, uh. Sorry.”

Cosway rolled her eyes. “You ready or not?”

“Let’s go.”

Cosway walked him over, before ditching him and hanging out in the corner, looking around the room now and then, and scribbling stuff down in a notebook. Alexander was pretty sure it was a sparkly pen. Cute.

Alexander could totally tell why Thomas had a crush on her.

The room was nothing like the other rooms in the bunker. In one corner was a big screen surrounded by lights. It was probably where they were filming. The screen curved to create a U shape, and was currently showing an image of the ashes of Colony 12. Alexander winced away from it. The memories that accompanied it were a little too much for him. 

Mercy walked up to Alexander, giving him a mischievous smile and pulling him to another corner of the room. She sat him down in a chair in front of a mirror, and he saw his face for the first time in a while. It looked so much dirtier than he had remembered it. He gently scratched at some of the dirt, pieces of it flaking off and fluttering to the ground.

“So, you’re here to make me look pretty?” Alexander asked dryly. It was the same thing he had said when they had first met. It seemed to be so long ago now, their first conversation in the metal dressing room of the games. He let out a soft sigh.

“I’m here to help you make an impression,” Mercy echoed. The words lacked the playfulness of earlier. Mercy looked tired. They all looked tired. Still, Mercy gave him an encouraging smile and began working on his hair. 

Alexander realized that he was wrong. The games had never ended. He was never out of the games. Hell, he was playing into the games right now. Public support? Public sympathy? That’s exactly what he was trying to get before the games. It was what was going to get him through the games in the first place. It was what was going to get him through everything now. It seemed so fake.

Cosway was still in the corner, studying things with her eyes, scribbling random stuff down now and then.

Alexander let his eyes sweep the room as well, trying to find something to examine the same way Cosway had been doing. Soon enough, he found one. There was a control panel in the corner of the room that seemed to be controlling the display. Every now and then, someone new would begin to press the buttons, and the display would change to another shot of Colony 12. 

Alexander couldn’t help the curiosity that stemmed in him every time he saw the display change to another shot of his old home. He saw a few familiar places pop up: The coal mines, which hadn’t been too affected by the bombs. The mayor’s house, which had mostly collapsed, still making a last effort to keep itself up. The courtyard where the reaping had taken place. The last shot he saw was of the road where John had lived, and Alexander had to tear his eyes away. 

He looked back at Mercy. She was wiping the dirt off of his face with a moist towel. He could feel the water calming him, and he closed his eyes, relaxing back into his seat. It only took Mercy a few more minutes, and she led handed him a black suit.

“I thought it would be better to have you in your uniform for the games, but Martha said that it’d be better to have you all dressed and cleaned up,” Mercy said, letting out a sigh. “Doesn’t really make that much of an impression, but I guess the focus will be more on you now.”

“So you were here to make me look pretty,” Alexander said. It seemed like every bit of everyone here had been stripped away.

“It’s up to you to make an impression this time. This isn’t going to do it,” Mercy said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. She motioned for him to stand up, walking to the display. He followed her, looking everywhere except for the ruins of his colony. There was a platform on the ground, and Mercy gestured to it. “Pretty easy. Stand here, read the script that pops up over there,” she said, pointing towards a teleprompter. “I think that’s all you need to know.” 

Alexander nodded, and she gave him a halfhearted smile.

“Hey, we’re still in this together,” she said. “We can hang out a little later, if you’d like.”

It was a weak attempt at fixing things, but Alexander needed it. He smiled back at her, wrapping his arms around her hesitantly. Alexander could feel her perk up underneath him, hugging him back.

“Of course,” he murmured.

Mercy kissed his cheek and let go, looking Alexander over. “Give me a spin.”

Alexander spun around for her. “Aww, no fire?”

“Nope, this is from the Spring Boring Collection. Only outfits that make people yawn. It’s very couture,” Mercy hummed. “No conversation pieces allowed.”

Alexander chuckled. “Thanks, mom.”

Mercy rolled her eyes. “Going to start filming now.”

It went just as planned. Alexander read from the prompter, they kept the cameras rolling. The screen in the back displayed pictures of the destroyed Colony 12. Felt absolutely amazing. It also felt fake.

Even if everyone had been smiling at Alexander and giving him the thumbs up as if he was doing great, the fact was that it was a huge flop. Alexander could feel it while he was up there. Nothing really resonated. It looked forced.

“It basically looked like what the Capitol did with Eliza,” Mercy explained later. She and Alexander had snuck outside for a picnic. “There was no bit of you left in there.”

Alexander sighed. Of course it had been a flop. He was stupid for thinking anything could go the right way. He reached for another piece of bread, stuffing as much of it as he could into his mouth. Mercy had stolen the food. It was just a few bread rolls to everyone else, but to him it was more food than he had seen in Colony 12. He’d be eating as much of it as possible.

Mercy was staring off into a distant line of trees. They were far away from the ashes now, right in between Colonies 12 and 13. The skeletons of the colonies remained on either side of them, but there were always large expanses between colonies to limit communication. Just another way that the Capitol had decided to screw up their lives.

“I can see why. Martha’s basically dominates Capitol TV. That’s what she’s used to,” Mercy said frustratedly. “It would’ve all gone better if she had actually listened to me.”

Alexander looked over to her and saw her staring a hole into the grassy ground. He sighed.

“Are you happy here?” he asked. Mercy was silent for a little bit, and Alexander could tell that she was thinking over her answer. The sudden quiet had brought out the sounds of the birds singing in the distance. It had been the first time Alexander had been outside in a while. The picnic almost felt like a congratulations party for surviving this long. It was nice to relax, for once. The warmth and sunlight on Alexander’s skin seemed foreign, and he could see how pale he had become. Maybe he would go out again tomorrow. It was nice out here.

“No,” Mercy finally said. “It always seems like I have power, working right next to Martha and everything, but I really don’t. She never listens to anyone. I hate it.” She looked over to Alexander, giving him a searching look. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“I won’t,” Alexander said, letting out a chuckle. Mercy laughed too. He reached for more bread. It was actually good, unlike whatever they had served in the cafeteria. “Where’d you steal the bread from?”

“Martha.”

They both began to giggle, and Alexander handed her a piece. “Have some. In honor of Martha.”

“In honor of Martha,” Mercy agreed, and they tapped their pieces of bread against each other, mocking the Capitol tradition of constantly knocking glasses against each other. They both ate the bread, and Alexander choked a little as he tried to force it down. He had eaten a lot more than usual that day, and his stomach was already protesting. Mercy handed him her bottle of water, and he took a few gulps, wiping away the liquid that settled around his lips. Mercy pulled the remaining two bread rolls away from him. “I’ll sneak them to your room for later.”

“Thanks,” Alexander said. 

“You gone to the medbay yet, dear?”

Alexander considered lying, but dropped it as soon as he saw the way Mercy was looking at him. “Not since when I first came.”

“Are you taking anything?”

“Nope,” Alexander said. 

“You should. You need a bit of help,” she said bluntly, taking her bottle back and taking a few sips herself. “Don’t mean it as an insult, but it’s true.”

Alexander sighed, nodding. 

“Are you going to go?” Mercy asked.

“Probably not,” Alexander said honestly. 

Mercy gave him a stare. “Do it.”

“Okay,” Alexander said. Mercy was really the only person he could look up to at this point. It would probably be best to at least check if there was anything useful at the medbay, since everyone else seemed to be making stops over there.

“I did want to apologize for the way the entire thing with Eliza was handled. If it was under my control, I probably would’ve released the recording by now,” Mercy said, sighing.

“Martha?”

“She says she doesn’t want everyone to turn against each other on what to do. I say that if everyone here is already working with a secret resistance, I doubt it’ll cause them to support the Capitol all of a sudden,” Mercy explained.

“I might’ve told Angelica about the recording,” Alexander said. “Probably should apologize for that.”

Mercy laughed. “Knew I liked you for a reason.”

Alexander smiled as he saw the familiar mischievous glint in her eye.

“How about we get back inside?” Mercy asked. Alexander nodded. She stood up and held a hand out for him, and he pulled himself up. He picked up her water bottle, and they began to head back, the smell of ashes becoming prominent again as they got closer to the main part of the district. Mercy gave Alexander a quick wave, going off in a different direction than he was. 

The rest of the day passed the same way that every other day seemed to pass, except lonelier. Alexander sighed. Even though he would probably never admit it, he liked Thomas constantly reprimanding him for everything. It was weird without him. 

Alexander went to the medbay as promised, picked up a few pills, and walked back out.

Still, Alexander was glad he had Mercy for now.


	23. Hamilton Was Descended From A Bunch Of Scottish Kings

Alexander knocked on the door of Thomas’ room. He’d been sleeping with Thomas for the past few days. The first few days in the Colony were spent in his own bed in the room across the hall, but he couldn’t sleep well. Having Thomas next to him seemed to help. It helped Thomas, too.

Even if he was a mad at Thomas, he didn’t want to leave him alone. He wasn’t cruel.

There was no response from inside the room. Alexander checked the time. It was almost curfew; Thomas would be back soon. Alexander entered the room, pausing when he saw Thomas curled up on the bed. He closed the door. Was Thomas… crying?

“Thomas?” he asked softly.

Thomas curled up a bit more.

“I’m walking over, darling,” Alexander said, not wanting to startle him.

There were tears running down Thomas’ cheeks, and he was sniffling softly. Alexander gently pulled Thomas’ head onto his lap, playing with the curls softly. Thomas looked up at him. “Everyone hates me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Alexander responded easily, gently using his other hand to wipe Thomas’ tears away. “I just think you did something wrong. Doesn’t erase all the good you’ve done for me.”

“Can you stay here tonight?” Thomas asked softly.

“Yes, darling,” Alexander answered. “Ten minutes till curfew. Need anything else?”

Thomas shook his head.

“Alright,” Alexander said soothingly. He moved Thomas’ head back to the pillow and puffed up the cover, pulling it over the both of them. He tucked Thomas in, and wrapped an arm around him softly. “Goodnight, Thomas.”

Thomas relaxed a bit. The hugging at night was a little new. “Night.”

 

The alarm that indicated it was time for curfew sounded. Alexander stayed facing Thomas' back for a little bit, before doing the same thing as Thomas and turning to the wall, their backs pressing each other. It was nice. Sort of an indicator that he wasn’t completely alone. Soon enough, he heard Thomas' breathing even out, a telltale sign that he was asleep. Alexander sighed, waiting for sleep to take him too.

It didn't take long, and for the first time in a long time, he fell into a deep sleep. 

He woke up later, groaning to himself. The morning alarm hadn't gone off yet, which meant that it was some point in the night. He didn’t know whether the sun was up or not. There wasn’t a window. It was raining outside. Alexander could hear it now that most of the generators had been turned off. 

Alexander turned in the bed, looking over to Thomas, who was hugging his knees, rocking back and forth on the mattress, muttering the same thing to himself over and over again. Alexander caught bits and pieces of it. It was the questions. 

He pushed himself up, wrapping an arm around Thomas. Thomas flinched away at the beginning, before leaning into the grip, resting his weight on Alexander. The muttering stopped, and his breathing slowed down again.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Alexander said, gently rubbing his hand down Thomas' back.

The silence visited them again, neither saying a thing.

"Nightmare?" Alexander finally asked.

"Nightmare," Thomas confirmed.

"What was it?"

"The games.”

Alexander nodded. There was nothing else that would make sense, anyway. He had been expecting it. 

“It was about James,” Thomas added.

Alexander nodded, gently guiding Thomas back into the bed, keeping an arm wrapped around him. It took a few minutes for Thomas to drift back to sleep. Alexander remained still, so he wouldn’t disturb Thomas at all. 

He slipped off at some point, too.

Alexander awoke again to the familiar sound of the morning alarm. 

“Morning,” Thomas said. 

Alexander nodded, sliding out of the bed. Of course it was morning. He stretched a little. Everything always felt the same here. It was starting to get boring. He barely saw people and never talked, unless it was to one of the other tributes.

He nodded at Thomas again, leaving the room without another word. He needed to get his own clothes from his room. He hadn’t taken a bath in days. He was pretty sure he smelled. Didn’t matter too much, seemed to keep the people away. 

Alexander changed. That part was simple. His eyes flickered across the bits of rib that was still poking through the small amount of fat he had. He scratched at the dirt underneath his fingernails, pretending to do something useful. There wasn’t anything useful to do. He had left his notebook in Thomas’ room. He wanted to get it, but he couldn’t find the energy. He sighed, sitting down on the bed. 

Eventually he fell over, just lying down there and staring at the ceiling. The generators were back on now. He could hear their buzz. He was glad his room was close to the generator room. Made it easier to run over and hide there.

There was a knock at the door, and Thomas invited himself in.

“It’s been twenty minutes,” he said.

“Zoned out again,” Alexander replied.

Thomas nodded, not really expecting anything else. “Breakfast?”

Alexander shook his head. “You go. I’m expecting a delivery or bread rolls soon.”

Thomas stood there for a few seconds. “I’m staying too,” he murmured. 

Alexander shifted over, letting Thomas take a bit of space on the bed. Thomas wrapped his arms around Alexander tightly, holding him there. Alexander combed through his hair softly. “Is something the matter?”

“Everyone hates me,” Thomas murmured. 

Alexander sighed and wrapped an arm around Thomas as well. “I told you that wasn’t true.”

Thomas shook his head, burying his face into Alexander’s chest. 

“You did a bad thing, that doesn’t-”

“I did the right thing,” Thomas whispered. “You can’t just go around leaking government secrets.”

“Government secrets? That broadcast was sent to all the colonies. There wasn’t supposed to be anything secret about it,” Alexander muttered. 

“But she was telling people to stand down in the video, we don’t want people to lose morale.”

“Come on, everyone here would know that the video was forced,” Alexander said. “There’s no reason to hide information from them. Wouldn’t it be a morale boost if they knew Eliza was alive?”

“But we don’t know that they will,” Thomas said. “You can’t take chances.”

“They didn’t even let Eliza’s sister know! _You_ didn’t let Angelica know. Don’t you think there’s something wrong with that?” Alexander asked. 

Thomas glared up at him. “This is a war, Alexander. I’m a soldier. I act like it.”

Alexander let him go. “Fine. Why don’t you go frolic off with Martha, then?”

“You’re just going to get yourself killed. You can’t do everything your own way,” Thomas said, letting go as well. “Don’t you care about other people? You need to listen to orders. That’s the only way we’re going to end up winning this thing.”

Alexander scoffed. “Don’t _I_ care about other people? I’m sure I’m not the one that should be asking myself that right now. Go away. You’re right. Everyone hates you.” 

Thomas looked at him with the expression of a kicked puppy for a second, before he walked to the door, slamming it behind him as he walked out. 

Alexander started crying the moment Thomas was gone. He wrapped his arms around his pillow, holding it to his chest. He buried his face in it. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. He was supposed to be done with the games. He was supposed to be with Thomas. He was supposed to be happy. 

Alexander just really wanted to get out. Not of this room, but the entire bunker. There was no point in staying here longer. Martha seemed hesitant to act, and the propo they had made was terrible. Nothing was going the right way. 

He knew he probably wasn’t going to leave the room the entire day. He just closed his eyes and stayed there, trying to listen to the generators through the walls. 

There was a knock. 

It had been almost two hours. Alexander groaned and sat up before walking to the door. He opened it.

It was Mercy, with the bread rolls. She grinned, handing the small box over. “Did you take your medicine for the day?”

Alexander groaned, walking over to his discarded pants. He pulled a small packet out of the pocket, taking a pill. He dry swallowed it. “Yes.”

Mercy smiled and walked in. “Good.”

Alexander stuck his tongue out at her. 

Mercy didn’t seem to mind. “I think you should sign up for a job today.”

“Why?”

She smiled a bit mischievously. “I have a feeling you’ll enjoy it.”

Alexander squinted at her. “Fine. But if this is a ploy to get me to talk to people-”

“Of course not. Maria and Angelica are cleaning the hallways in the East Wing, I’ve already signed you up to be with them.”

Alexander scowled. 

“Oh come on, lighten up,” Mercy said. “Have fun today!”

She blew Alexander a quick kiss. “You’ve got to go in half an hour. Take a bath, Alexander.”

Alexander chuckled. “See you later, Mercy.”

She smiled and ducked out of the room. 

Alexander ended up taking a bath. There was still leftover makeup on his face from the previous day. The water turned a different color as it ran off of him. He scrubbed until the water ran clear and his skin looked like it was the right color.

He toweled off and changed back into his clothes. It was almost time to get to the hallway for work. He walked out of the bathroom into one of the gray hallways. All of the hallways were gray here, with concrete walls. Sometimes a wall was lucky enough to be decorated with a few sealed over cracks! Very Avant-Garde.

Alexander found himself naming the cracks one day. He promptly smacked his head against a wall and went to bed.

The gray walls also had television screens. He saw a few of them playing his propo earlier. The sound was always too low to keep interest anyway. They didn’t want anyone loitering in the hallway.

He ran off to find Angelica to help with cleaning the hallways. He slid into the right hallway, watching Cosway and Angelica taking mops and buckets out of a closet. Angelica’s hair was in a high ponytail, and Cosway had a bun on, as well as a pair of gray clothes with paint splatters covering them.

“Hamilton,” she acknowledged.

“Cosway,” Alexander replied.

Angelica waved happily. “You know, both of you need a lesson in making friends.”

Cosway rolled her eyes, filling up the bucket with some water. “He needs a lesson in not being an asshole.”

“You need a lesson in not being a bitch,” Alexander muttered.

Cosway splashed some water over at Alexander’s face.

“Ew,” Alexander muttered. He wouldn’t really care, usually. “I just had a bath.”

“That’s enough,” Angelica said, handing another mop to Alexander. “We’ve got a lot of hallways to do.”

Alexander nodded, dipping the end of the mop into the water. He didn’t really have the energy for an argument right now. Cosway took one of the buckets to the other end of the hallway. She dipped the end of the mop into the water and began to work, mostly dancing around with the mop, covering the floor calmly and gracefully.

Alexander was doing no such thing, scrubbing at the floor violently. Angelica was deliberate with her strokes, more focused on being efficient rather than perfect. There really wasn’t any reason to scrub violently. People would be walking all over these floors soon enough. Alexander relaxed a bit, mimicking Angelica.

He’d have to thank Mercy later. He felt like he was getting work done, and it was mostly calming. Cosway was humming softly, and the sound drifted down the hallway. Apart from that, there was almost nothing. They worked through the hallways methodically, finishing up quickly. Angelica ended up dancing like Cosway a bit, having fun and drawing patterns in the floor with the soapy water before wiping them away. 

They whispered something to each other now and then, giving Alexander a quick glance or two, before seeming to move onto something random. Alexander tried to eavesdrop, but learned quickly that unlike most people, Cosway and Angelica were good at whispering.

It didn’t really matter. Alexander wasn’t here to talk. He liked the calm of the sweeping motions. He didn’t need anything else right now. The soapy smell of the water drifted up to him, and he smiled. The pills were definitely working.

Maybe it was just going out and doing stuff that made him feel better.

Plus, he was no longer thinking about Thomas, which was a bonus.

Alexander ended up dancing with his mop a little too, deciding to have a bit of fun with it. He ended up tripping on the bucket and landing facedown on the ground. Whoops.

Angelica chuckled softly, offering a hand to help him up. “You alright there?”

Alexander nodded, blushing slightly. 

Cosway was snickering. “Wish I had a camera.”

Angelica laughed as well, and Alexander scowled. They both stopped when a static noise filled the hallway. Angelica’s grip on Alexander tightened, and she got into a defensive position. Cosway was holding the mop as a weapon now. It was just startling.

Cosway was the first to turn her gaze to the television. Alexander’s propo had flickered off. Instead, it was the video of Eliza. 

It took a few seconds before the static stopped completely and they could hear Eliza’s voice very clearly. “"I'm here to say that I'm alright and that I'm at the Capitol. Their hospitality is limitless, and they have been nice enough to allow me to give a message to the rebels.”

The television was no longer on low volume. Alexander could hear Eliza’s voice echoing from every hallway.

Alexander looked to Angelica. She was watching the screen intently. Cosway was doing the same, her calculating eyes noticing things that Alexander probably wasn’t noticing. 

“They weren’t going to release the video. Someone broke in and did it for us,” Maria said.

“Who?” Angelica asked.

“I have no clue.”

“Who has access to the broadcast room?” Alexander asked.

Cosway answered, “Usually it’s Mercy, but Martha-”

“Mercy did it. She released the video,” Alexander said, smiling.

“We’re breaking out tonight,” Angelica decided, looking back at Alexander. Cosway already seemed to know. “I have a plan. Ben agreed to help. Alexander, you can’t tell Thomas. ”

“Good,” Alexander said, not hesitating at all. He pushed away the guilt. “How are we doing this?” 

They needed to get to Eliza. He could deal with Thomas after. 

Was leaving him behind cruel? Yes.

Alexander didn’t care.


	24. Lafayette Changed His Family's Motto to "Why Not?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This, my friends, is why not.  
> 

Alexander needed to find Mercy. Angelica had said that Alexander could bring her. Not Thomas. Alexander reminded himself how easily he had dismissed Thomas. It was slowly starting to hurt more and more. 

Still, he was pushing on. Alexander cursed himself for not asking where the broadcasting room was. He needed to find Mercy. Thankfully, the entire North wing had labelled rooms, and that’s most probably where the broadcasting room would be. He smiled when he found it, before mentally scolding himself for how long it took. The broadcasting room was right next to the production room that Alexander had been in a while back. He grabbed the doorknob, jiggling it around. It wouldn't budge. He groaned, kicking the door in frustration. He couldn't leave Mercy here. 

"You expecting to get in that way?" Ben asked, leaning against the wall behind Alexander with a tiny smile on his face.

Creepy bastard.

"What do you want?" Alexander asked cautiously, letting go of the doorknob and looking at Ben.

"To watch the show. Please, do continue," he said, the smirk growing. Alexander threw his arms up in the air in frustration. The worst part was that Ben could probably find a way into the lock easily. Of course Alexander looked idiotic to him. Ben was a fucking genius. "You know, Mercy isn't in there."

"And where would she be?" Alexander asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Wherever Martha took her. She was not happy," Ben said, grin growing. "I'm about eighty percent sure there's a dungeon here. Never got to check. Martha seems the type."

"What?" Alexander asked.

"You know, chains, corsets, the kinky stuff," Ben said, shrugging. 

"You're the only person who would be thinking about that right now."

"I know what I like," Ben said, raising an eyebrow at Alexander suggestively.

Alexander began to regret all the life decisions that led up to this one moment, talking about kinks with a fucking thirteen year old.

"Okay, I'm going to ignore that. What do you want?”

“Kinky sh-”

Alexander cut him off. “I need to get to Mercy.”

“And?”

“And you probably know where she is, thanks to your entire creepy ‘I know everything’ thing,” Alexander said, waving his hands around, as if that would illustrate his point. All it did was cause Ben to laugh. How much did Ben already know about the plan?

“Okay, new plan. Check into your room an hour before curfew. That’s dinnertime, but nobody would check on you because you seem to miss every meal time,” Ben said slowly, almost as if he were talking to a child. It was horribly demeaning, but Alexander held his tongue for now. “I’ll meet you right outside your room around then. I can check the camera footage to find out where Mercy is, and we’ll have about 45 minutes to go get her. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Alexander said.

“If this works, you owe me, big time,” Ben said, before turning and sauntering away before Alexander could get another word in. Words were Alexander’s speciality. He always paid attention to the words that people chose, and Alexander realized that Ben had said “if.”

***

Alexander was slipping back into Thomas’ room. He just needed to get his notebook before leaving. He also needed to find Mercy, and soon. They were breaking out tonight. Alexander walked in and saw Thomas on the bed. 

Thomas looked up at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Alexander responded. There was silence between them. 

Alexander walked further in, picking up his notebook.

Thomas watched him. 

“I wasn’t the one that released it,” Alexander muttered. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Thomas shook his head, looking away. “You wish you were.”

“What?”

“You wish you were the one to have released that video. I know you,” Thomas murmured. 

“Maybe,” Alexander said.

Thomas scoffed. “You still don’t realize how stupid it is, do you?”

Alexander shrugged. There was no reason to elevate it more and then just walk out on Thomas. Might as well stay civil for now.

“Eliza’s the one they’re all fighting for. What do you think is going to happen when they see Eliza telling them all to put down their weapons?”

“Everyone knows the Capitol forced her to do it,” Alexander said. Controlling his tongue was hard, even if he was trying. He sighed. “Agree to disagree?”

Thomas’ opinion didn’t matter, anyway. Martha’s opinion didn’t matter either. They were breaking out whether or not Thomas or Martha approved. Eliza needed to be saved as soon as possible, as did the other tributes that were now stuck in the Capitol. 

“We can’t just agree to disagree. It’s not just an opinion. We’re on the brink of war. The consequences of the wrong opinion is real lives,” Thomas murmured, looking back at Alexander. “Don’t you understand that?”

The thing was, Thomas was a good person. Alexander could see it in his eyes. Thomas genuinely cared about all the people living here. He cared about everyone in the colonies. Some part of him probably even cared for the people in the Capitol. There was a little bit of guilt growing in Alexander’s chest. He was leaving Thomas behind, something that would probably kill Thomas internally. 

Alexander held his gaze. “We’re just as bad as the Capitol if we withhold information like this. It’s exactly what the Capitol does. Screw with the media. We can’t. We’re fighting for freedom.”

“We’re fighting to make sure that more kids don’t die at the hands of other kids,” Thomas said. “We’re fighting so that the Capitol won’t hoard all the food and money for themselves.”

“We’re fighting different battles, then,” Alexander murmured. 

There was silence between them.

Alexander sighed and walked towards the door.

“Please don’t leave,” Thomas whispered. 

Alexander stopped, turning and resting against the door. 

“You know that feeling when everyone you love leaves you?” Thomas asked, looking up at him.

Alexander could see that his eyes were already wet. He walked over to Thomas, gently wrapping his arms around him, sighing. Alexander had lost his parents. Lost his cousin and his brother. He’d lost John. 

Alexander would’ve been with John if it wasn’t for Thomas.

Alexander would’ve been dead if it wasn’t for Thomas.

“Yes,” Alexander murmured.

Thomas hugged Alexander back. “I don’t know why I deal with you.”

Alexander melted into him. “I don’t know how I deal with you.”

Thomas chuckled softly. “Must be my irresistible personality.”

“You’re repulsive.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Something we have in common, then,” Alexander murmured, just staying there. It’d probably be the last time he’d be with Thomas for a while. Maybe the last time, period. He squeezed a bit more, burrowing a little closer.

Thomas tucked Alexander into his chest. “I’m still mad.”

“Me too.”

“But I need this.”

There was a pause. “Me too.”

They stayed silent for a while, just staying like that. Thomas’ fingers began tying Alexander’s hair into a braid.

“You know, you don’t have to worry about me leaving you,” Thomas said softly. “I think we’re stuck in this battle together.”

Alexander felt something sick in his stomach. “Nah, you wouldn’t want to have to stick around my ass.”

Thomas laughed softly. “You’d do the same for me.”

Alexander pulled away. Thomas looked at him.

“Alexander? You’re crying.”

Alexander shook his head. “I’m just… allergies. I need to go.” He grabbed his notebook and left again without another word. 

“I just want to help,” Thomas murmured. 

Alexander could hear it, and he hated it. He knew he was on the list of people Thomas cared about. He ran to his room and locked his room door, sinking down to the ground.

He stayed there until dinnertime. He had nothing else to do.

He smoothed out his hair, feeling the small braid in the back. Alexander signed himself in for the night, but he stood outside the door as it closed, registering him as inside. Ben would be here any minute to help him get Mercy. Alexander leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.

“I'm actually surprised you came,” Ben’s voice said. 

Alexander turned, looking at him. He was grinning at Alexander, and there was a backpack on his back. The smile was haunting. Why was it so easy to be afraid of a fucking thirteen-year-old?

Right, because he wouldn't have had any problem killing Alexander earlier.

“Here’s the plan. We’re going to pretend to be normal people, going for dinner or whatever, but we’re going to break off into another hallway and I’m going to break into the room with the mainframe, jam the connections to the rooms in our sector so that Angelica and Laf can get out after curfew and get to the plane. I’ll unlock Mercy’s room, too, and Ria can get her out of there. Bonus if we can take out two guards on the way, so that we have weapons. Good?”

Alexander just nodded, blinking a little. “Wh-”

“Good, let’s go,” Ben said. “Look normal. Run quietly.”

Alexander rolled his eyes, beginning to walk with Ben down the hallways. They passed the cafeteria, and Ben led them in the direction of the bathroom, before breaking off into another hallway. Alexander followed him, and they began to run down the hallways.

“Did you memorize this or something?” Alexander asked.

“Yup,” Ben said. “I was disappointed to learn there was no dungeon.”

Alexander rolled his eyes, continuing after Ben. After a while, there was another set of footsteps. Ben grabbed Alexander’s hand and pulled him against the wall. Alexander’s chest heaved from all the running. It was the most activity he had in the last week, but he didn’t feel as tired as usual.

“Breathe quieter,” Ben whispered. Alexander rolled his eyes again but he did his best to keep his breathing down.

That was until Ben randomly ran out from the side of the hallway, letting out some sort of battle cry as he jumped onto a guard that was turning the corner. Ben, being a puny thirteen-year-old, didn’t even manage to knock the other person down. Instead, Ben was just holding onto the person, arms and legs wrapped around them as they stumbled. Ben’s head was blocking their line of sight and his weight threw them a little off-balance.

“Alexander,” Ben hissed, holding onto the guard with both of his arms as the person tried to shake him off. Alexander bit his lip for a second before launching at the person as well, managing to knock them over. 

Alexander fell on top of Ben, who fell on top of the guard, whose head hit the floor with a sickening thud. Ben grinned up at Alexander. Their chests were pressed together and they were breathing against each other. Ben pushed Alexander off of him, already looking shaken up. It disappeared in a second. 

He picked up the guard’s blaster, hitting them in the chest.

Alexander glared at him.

“Relax, I switched it to stun,” he murmured.

They continued down the hallway, and Ben stopped again at one of the intersections. He stayed there for a minute, tapping his foot. 

“What are we waiting for?” Alexander asked. 

“There's supposed to be a guard. Like, right now,” Ben said, turning the corner. The guard was there. She had a high ponytail and was looking down at something in her hand.

Ben held his hand out for the blaster. Alexander gave it to him, and he hit her directly in the chest. She slumped over. 

“Fucking guards playing video games,” Ben muttered, dragging her into a room as well. He picked up her blaster, and gave Alexander’s back to him. “Come on, we’re running a little late.”

They continued down the hallway. Ben had memorized the patterns of guards, and they weren’t stopped for the rest of the trip. For once, a plan actually seemed to go well. Ben shot the keypad of a door, and someone inside opened the door. Ben shot them, and he and Alexander got everyone else in the room.

Ben ran over to the computers, typing something out really fast. He looked up at the screen, grinning. “Done!” he said excitedly. He really did look like a thirteen year old kid at that moment. “Dungeon’s open.”

Alexander chuckled. “Okay, Cosway’s getting Mercy, right?”

“You guys are both on the same rescue mission, you can at least use Ria’s first name,” Ben said. Alexander shrugged, and Ben rolled his eyes. “Anyway, we’re a little early, so we’re just going to wait here for a little.”

Ben pulled out the thing that the guard with the ponytail had been holding, and he was pressing a few buttons on it. Alexander walked over, looking at it.

“What is that?” he asked.

“It’s a video game,” Ben said. He looked at Alexander. “Please tell me you’ve seen a video game before.”

Alexander shook his head.

“Oh, you poor, poor child,” Ben said. “You have a lot to learn.”

“I am older than you, asshat,” Alexander said.

“Doesn’t matter, dipshit. I’m introducing your sad ass to video games,” Ben said.

The next half an hour was spent with Alexander and Ben fighting over the tiny machine, each of them trying to outdo the other. Well, only one of them was trying. Ben was just beating Alexander at every little thing. It was still fun, and Alexander actually felt happy. By the end of it, he could at least say that Ben and him were some type of friends. It made everything look better, even if it didn’t last long.

Alexander couldn’t hold back the disappointment when Ben said it was time to go. Ben slipped the game into his bag, and began to lead Alexander down the hallways to the hangar. They got there the same time as Cosway and Mercy, and Angelica and Laf came a few minutes later, panting heavily.

"Could've sworn someone was following us," Angelica said. "This place gives me the creeps. Let's go."

Everyone nodded, looking up to her as their leader. She walked into the hangar and everyone followed. Alexander bit his lip, still unsure of what to do. He didn't want to leave Thomas behind. He really didn't want to leave Thomas behind. He sighed and walked in after everyone. Angelica and Mercy were already in the cockpit of a small plane. Ben was doing something with Cosway to open the hangar doors. Laf was hugging Ben as he worked. Alexander sighed, standing in the corner away from everyone else. It still didn't feel like he fit in. 

Alexander was the villain in this case. He was the one leaving Thomas behind. He sighed, sliding against the wall and sitting down, waiting for someone to tell him to get up and do something. It was now that he realized that he really had nothing to offer. Everyone else on the team had assets. Alexander was just... bad at everything. It didn't even seem fair. He hugged his knees, trying to make himself smaller. It helped a little bit. He jumped as he heard a voice next to him.

It was just a sudden feeling of worthlessness that overwhelmed him after everything.

"Alexander, what are you doing?" 

Alexander turned, biting his lip. It was Thomas. Of course it was. The world hated Alexander Hamilton. He scrambled backwards, picking up the blaster and aiming it at Thomas' worried face. "How did you get here?"

“Followed Ange and Laf.” Thomas’ voice was careful, cautious. There was fear on his face, and it was sinking into his words. Alexander could hear the pain in it. Nobody had turned towards them. Nobody knew that Thomas was here. They were conveniently hidden behind another hovercraft. Alexander's breathing became shallower and he pressed against the wall. Thomas watched him. "Put the blaster down, Alexander. What are you doing?"

"We're leaving. You should get out of this room," Alexander said. "Just pretend you didn't see us."

"Why didn't you tell me? I could've come too," Thomas said softly, but Alexander knew the meaning underneath it. _Why are you leaving me behind?_

“They wouldn't let me tell you. Go. Now," he said. He lifted the blaster again with a shaking arm. He took a deep breath. "I'm not going to hesitate."

"You're already hesitating," Thomas said. "Please, darling, Alexander, you can't leave me here."

Alexander's arm shook even more. He could hear the hangar door opening in the background, and another happy exclamation from Ben.

"Alexander, please."

"Last... chance," Alexander whispered, the words hard to get out.

"Alexander, I-"

"Sorry." Alexander pulled the trigger, and Thomas dropped. Alexander sat there, shaking. What had he done? Thomas was still breathing. The blaster was still on stun. Alexander crawled over, gently pushing away Thomas' hair from his face. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Thomas' forehead, feeling tears pushing at his eyes. Thomas would hate him. Alexander already hated himself. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. 

"Alexander?" Laf called. Alexander stood up, wiping his tears away. 

"Coming!" Alexander called back, his voice shaking. Nobody needed to know that Thomas was here, or that Thomas had seen what they were doing. Alexander knew he'd get blamed. He turned back to Thomas, whispering a final "I'm so sorry," before standing up and running to their hovercraft.


	25. Thomas Jefferson and John Adams Stole a Piece of a Chair in a Museum

It was a smaller hovercraft than the one they had stolen in the arena. There were eight seats in the middle, and a seat for a pilot and a copilot. There were a few windows on the sides, and a large space in the back, probably for storing things. Almost everyone was concentrated in the front, and nobody was sitting in a seat, apart from Angelica and Mercy, who were flying the plane. Laf and Cosway were right behind them and Ben was sitting on the edge of one of the seats in the middle, leaned forward in a way that almost none of his weight was actually on the seat. 

The alarms went off as soon as the hovercraft lifted off the ground. Angelica and Mercy were at the front pressing buttons in a frenzy, trying to lift the plane off the ground. 

“You said you took down all the alarms!” Angelica yelled.

“I thought I did, I didn’t-” Ben started.

“He is the reason we are here, you fly the plane,” Laf said.

“I was there too, Ange, we thought we took them all down,” Cosway said, leaning on Angelica’s seat. “Just focus on getting us out. I know you’re a great pilot, and I-”

“I'm trying!” Angelica yelled. Alexander scrambled to the back of the hovercraft, trying to stay away from all the yelling.

“Deep breaths,” Cosway said, gently squeezing Angelica’s shoulder. 

“Um, I do not want to worry you but there are guards here,” Laf said. He was peering out of the window, biting at his lip. 

“Shit, how many?” Cosway asked, leaving Angelica’s side to run to the window. 

Laf was muttering numbers under his breath. “One more than eight right now, it's neuf, I don't remember how to-”

“Nine! There's nine but there are more coming,” Cosway yelled, cutting off Laf. 

Ben had joined Alexander at the back of the hovercraft, his hands over his ears. Alexander heard him uttering something under his breath, rocking back and forth on his heels with his eyes squeezed shut. Alexander wanted to say something but it felt like his mouth was dry and it wasn't working and nothing was working and he had left Thomas behind and all of this was all his fault and-

“Could you stop yelling?” Lafayette asked, looking at Ben and Alexander. “It's hard for some people to deal with right now.”

“I'm sorry, but all of this is hard to deal with right now.”

Alexander couldn't tell who it was, but he already had his eyes screwed closed, trying to stop the frustrated tears that were forming. It took a few seconds until he didn't even feel the tears anymore, and the sounds of people yelling floated away. He was alone and there was nobody there for him and he had just pushed away the only person who cared and- He felt a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. He flinched, before he realized who it was.

“Alexander, it is me, Lafayette. Are you okay?”

Alexander shook his head, leaning closer to Lafayette. He needed the warmth.

“Okay. It is okay. Focus on me,” Lafayette said. “Don't worry about everyone else right now.”

Alexander nodded. Everyone was yelling something about weapons, and Alexander could feel the hovercraft shaking a few seconds later. He shuddered. He hated explosions- hated them. There was no way he could stand them after what happened with John and there was John and he was gone too and Alexander was alone and there was nobody-

“Can you open your eyes?” Lafayette asked. 

Alexander shook his head again. He didn't want to see what was going on. He moved closer to Lafayette. There was someone there right now-

“Can I hold you, Alexander?” 

Alexander nodded instantly. He wanted to be held, he wanted to feel protected, he wanted someone there for him. Lafayette pulled Alexander off the floor and onto his lap- funny, Alexander never remembered getting onto the floor in the first place- and began to rub soothing circles onto his shoulder. Something about it kept Alexander in reality, but it wasn't like reality was much better than the feeling of floating while everything else just happened around him. After a while, even his thoughts would fade out, and he'd just be there. That's what he wanted. 

But Lafayette was there keeping him awake. Alexander sighed. The tears in his eyes were already gone, and the hovercraft was a lot quieter now. He opened his eyes, looking up at Lafayette. 

“Thanks,” Alexander muttered, pushing himself off of Laf. He looked over at Ben, who was playing the video game from before. The game was silent, volume turned down, and Ben was hiding his ears in his shoulders as much as he could. 

“Ask before touching him,” Lafayette whispered. “Talk softly. Is that all you need, Alexander?”

Alexander nodded, unsure of what else to do. Lafayette nodded back at him, standing up and walking back to the front of the hovercraft, beginning to talk to Angelica about something. Alexander sighed, giving himself a minute to reorient himself before standing up. He wobbled for a second before he got his legs to work again, and walked towards the front of the craft. Cosway was trying to sleep on one of the seats, and he could see Mercy yawning. Alexander walked up to Laf, leaning against him. Lafayette gave him a lingering look, but the older boy didn't say anything. 

“Where exactly are we going?” Alexander asked. His voice was a little hoarse and the beginning of the question came out as a squeak. He sighed. He sounded pathetic. 

“District 3. My place,” Angelica said quietly. Alexander didn't miss the careful tone. “Obviously, we can’t fly a hovercraft directly to the Capitol, so we’re sneaking in from District 3. We’re meeting with my dad to see what he can do.”

“We don't really have a plan, do we?” Alexander asked. 

Laf chuckled. “No, I suppose we don't, mon ami.”

“Honestly, _fuck_ plans,” Mercy said. “Every plan that we’ve had so far has gone horribly wrong. What's the point of plans anymore?”

“Plans are-”

“You know what, Mercy? I second that. Fuck plans,” Alexander said, cutting off Angelica. “It's a stupid thing to say, but it's something to hold onto for now, since it seems like everything else is going to shit.”

“I am joining this ‘fuck plans’ group,” Lafayette said. “Fuck plans. I had a plan for my future but now I have stolen two hovercrafts and I'm wanted by the Capitol. We’re beyond the point of plans,” Lafayette said, a grin on his face. “I'm a criminal thanks to you imbeciles.”

Alexander chuckled. At least there was some part of them that could joke around when everything seemed to be going wrong.

“I hope you know that I'm obviously going to be planning a lot,” Angelica started. There was a worried look on her face as she addressed the three other people in the front. It was an uneasiness that seemed to eat at her words, making them less powerful. 

“You’re a criminal. It's not planning, it's _plotting._ ” Alexander corrected. Angelica finally cracked a smile. 

“Fine. I'm going to be plotting a lot. We need to get my sister back,” she said. There was a murmur of agreement. There was something magical about when Angelica spoke. Almost everyone instantly wanted to join her and hear what she was saying, and she had a way of exploiting weaknesses or appealing to desires. It was emotional but composed. Brilliant. “But yeah, plans have been a bust so far. Fuck them.”

Laf was the first to put his hand in the center of all of them, and Alexander joined a few seconds after. Angelica placed her hand on top of Alexander’s and Laf’s, and Mercy finally put her hand on top of all of them. 

“We say ‘fuck plans’ on three,” Laf said, smiling. “One, two, three.”

“Fuck plans,” they chorused softly, grins on all their faces. 

Alexander yawned, and Angelica turned back to the window in front of her, driving the hovercraft. Mercy yawned after Alexander, and chuckled. 

“You guys can go to sleep if you'd like. We still have two hours until we arrive, and it's best to be as alert as possible,” Angelica said.

“Sure you don't need me?” Mercy asked.

“Yeah, I've got this,” Angelica said. “I can ask Mar or Ben for help if I need it.”

“Kids,” Mercy said with a chuckle. “When I was your age-”

There was a groan, and Mercy laughed.

“You kids with your hijacking planes and starting a revolution,” Mercy said. 

“Aren’t you like, three years older than Angelica?” Alexander asked. 

“Like, yeah,” Mercy said, imitating Alexander. 

Alexander chuckled, stretching and letting out a yawn. “Yeah, I’m calling it a night.”

“Night, Alex,” Mercy said, walking back and sitting in one of the seats. She burrowed into it as much as possible, trying to get herself comfortable.

“Night, Mercy,” Alexander replied, giving Mercy a little wave. He turned back to Laf and Angelica. “Wake me up if anything happens.”

“Of course,” Laf said, pulling Alexander in for a quick hug. Alexander hugged back, smiling up at Laf. It had been a while since they had any type of real conversation, and it was nice seeing him again. Laf smoothed out Alexander’s hair, his fingers running over the braid in the back. “Your hair is nice.”

“Thanks,” Alexander said, letting go. He ran his own fingers over the braid. 

Shit. Thomas.

Alexander had almost forgotten. He had tried to forget. He sighed. “Alright. Night, Angelica.”

“Good night, Alexander,” Angelica said, giving him a salute. Alexander saluted back, before walking to the seat across from Mercy’s and trying to snuggle into the seat. The entire hovercraft was silent for a while except for the sound of engines in the background, which were easy to tune out. Alexander sighed. It was hard to sleep in the position that he was in, but it was harder to stay awake after everything that he had gone through. He let sleep take him, slumping against the chair.

* * *

Alexander was back in Thomas’ room at Colony 13. Thomas’ hands were in Alexander’s hair, gently braiding through. Alexander could feel himself smiling. He leaned back into the touch. There was something off about the whole thing, but Alexander couldn’t exactly place it.

_He was supposed to be somewhere else._

Alexander didn’t pay it any mind. He felt Thomas tie off the braid at the bottom. Alexander turned around so he and Thomas would be facing each other, and smiled up at the taller boy. Thomas moved his hands down to Alexander’s waist, pulling him closer. Alexander snuggled in willingly. 

He could feel Thomas staring directly at him, and he bit his lip, looking away. Thomas was close enough that Alexander could feel his breath on his forehead.

“What’s the matter?” Thomas asked softly.

“You’re staring,” Alexander said.

“Because you’re beautiful, darling,” Thomas replied.

Alexander blushed. He’d never thought he was ugly, but beautiful? He’d spent most of his life caked in dust and ashes. Not that someone covered in dirt couldn’t be beautiful. There was John, and John was beautiful. It scared Alexander how the word “was” had just worked its way into the sentence naturally.

John was.

Not is.

“Darlin’?” Thomas asked. 

Alexander looked back up at Thomas, biting his lip. They were only a few inches apart. “Beautiful?”

“Yeah, absolutely stunning. You’ve been through so much, and you’re still here kicking ass. If that isn’t beautiful, I don’t know what is.” 

Thomas is.

They leaned in as Alexander jolted awake. He let out a soft groan, closing his eyes again and trying to slip back into the dream. He couldn’t. 

Alexander sighed, correcting himself.

Thomas was.

Thomas was gone. Thomas would probably never speak to Alexander again, not after everything that had happened. The dream was just a stupid fantasy. Alexander pulled out the hair tie, shaking his hair out of the braid.

Nothing lasts forever.


	26. Alexander Hamilton Died Today, 213 Years Ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July 12th.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UM I CRIED WHILE WRITING THIS ONE  
> (The only other one where I cried was Chapter 14, for the record.)
> 
> i'm sorry this is so dialogue heavy i hate it too

Cosway had slipped into the seat next to Angelica while Alexander was sleeping. They were in the middle of a whispered conversation, both of them leaning into each other, too close to be accidental. It was that distance away from each other that two people who were trying to be as close as possible without actually doing anything that would cross the line into becoming romantic.

They were leaning close the same way Thomas used to do with Alexander. He sighed to himself. He never noticed the little things Thomas did until he was gone. Thomas’ constant protective presence at Alexander’s side had gotten him through most days. He didn’t have that anymore. He didn’t have anything.

It was Alexander’s fault that Thomas was gone. Best thing he could do was stop pretending that it wasn’t his fault. The guilt settled in Alexander’s stomach, and he still couldn’t admit to himself that it was over, that he was the one to end it. 

Alexander wiped away the tears that were forming and cleared his throat, letting Angelica and Cosway know that he was there. They turned to him, and he gave them a sheepish wave. Both of them leaned back in their seats.

“Well, you’re just in time. We’re almost there,” Angelica said. “See the field?”

She waited for Alexander to nod. Alexander nodded.

“Well, that’s where we’re landing. From there, it’s not that far of a walk to where we’ll be staying,” Angelica said. Alexander could see a twinkle in her eyes, probably from the prospect of being so close to home. 

“Of course, a ton of redcoats are going to be there,” Cosway said. "and we're wanted. Badly."

Alexander nodded. "What do I need to do?"

"Don't trust anyone that Angie doesn't trust," Maria said. "Lay low."

Alexander nodded again. It made sense, and there was no reason for him not to go along with it. At least he'd be doing something, and it would take his mind off of-

He wasn't going to think about it.

"Dad's probably going to have a few correspondents who can get us closer to the Capitol," Angelica said. "We break into the castle, since that's probably where they're keeping Liz."

"I don't know why the fuck it's called the castle though. It's nothing close to what a castle would look like," Cosway said, shrugging.

"Yeah, same with the name 'King George.' Think he went a little too far there," Angelica replied, chuckling. 

"Probably playing out some weird fantasy," Cosway said. "I bet he has daddy issues."

Angelica chuckled. "No, I bet he had a dad that constantly told him that he was going to rule the world someday, and he took it way too far."

"I bet he thought that because his name is 'George,' it's suddenly perfectly acceptable to add a 'King' to it, since every single King seems to be named 'George,'" Cosway replied, a grin on her face.

"That's an interesting theory, but I think the real deal is that he's trying to make up for his own lack of confidence," Angelica said. "Probably bitter about losing foursquare at some point."

"I agree. Eight dollars that he's a sub in bed," Cosway said.

"Nine that he's a dom that forces his partner to call him 'your majesty,' and this entire tyranny is just a weird sex fantasy," Angelica immediately replied.

"You know what? I'm taking you up on that one," Cosway replied.

"Mhm, and how exactly do you expect to find out what he likes?" Angelica asked.

Alexander chuckled a little to himself and turned around, walking back to his seat. Angelica and Cosway were doing the thing where they were leaning into each other again, and Alexander felt out of place in the conversation. Everybody else seemed to be sleeping, and Alexander was all alone.

"Ten dollars that he records sex tapes."

"And what, you want to _watch_ these sex tapes?"

"If it means I get eighteen dollars, why not?"

Alone.

Alexander sighed to himself again, a practice that seemed to be happening more and more. Everything seemed to be a disappointment recently. It wasn't long before he slipped into another nap.

* * *

He had the same dream again.

He didn't lean in this time.

* * *

Angelica shook him awake a little later. He blinked a few times, looking up at her. 

"We're about to land," she said softly. 

Alexander nodded, stretching a little as he stood up. He let out a yawn.

"Why are you waking them up one-by-one like that?" Cosway asked. Angelica turned to look at her, and Cosway climbed up, standing on the co-pilot's seat. She cupped her hands around her mouth, yelling. "Hey losers! Time to get up."

Ben groaned. "Shut up, Mar. I prefer Angelica's approach."

"How long have you been listening?" Angelica asked.

"Doesn't matter," Cosway said, jumping off her seat. She kicked the base of Ben's seat. "Get up, Benjamin."

"Fine, mom," he said, dramatically sliding off the seat.

"M'up," Mercy said, standing up and walking to the front. "Weapons?"

"In the back," Cosway and Ben both chimed in. Cosway gestured towards Ben, who continued. "There should be a few panels there. Pull the handles to the sides and there should be a few blasters and other stuff."

Mercy nodded, walking towards the back and pulling open the panel like Ben said. Angelica walked back to the front seat, turning off the autopilot so that she would be able to land in the field. 

"I am awake," Lafayette said. 

"Morning, dad," Ben said. "Nice of you to join us."

Lafayette waved his arm noncommittally. "Yeah, whatever. It's not like we are saving the world or anything."

Everyone let out some form of recognition, a chuckle or a sigh or something. Alexander just watched. Everyone seemed to be getting along fine without him. Then again, it was his fault. He never tried to speak to them or get included. He always watched from the side or let Thomas do the talking. 

He was out of place. 

Everyone here had been hanging out for a while. They knew each other pretty well. They knew how to work together. Alexander didn't. He didn't belong here. He didn't belong anywhere. It wasn't fair.

No, he deserved it. 

It was all his fault.

Alexander tugged at his hair, walking to the back to pick up a blaster. He sighed as he ran his finger over the trigger, remembering the last time he had used it. 

“You okay, Alex?” Mercy asked.

“Fine,” Alexander replied. Nobody needed to know about Thomas.

“I’m here for you,” she said softly, making sure nobody could hear. “‘Nother secret picnic soon? Last one was fun. We could steal food from Maria this time.”

Alexander chuckled, nodding. “Please?”

“Of course, dear,” Mercy said. “I’m here if you ever need to talk, Alexander.”

“I’m here for you, too,” Alexander said. Mercy gave him a soft smile.

“We’ve both lost a lot, haven’t we?” she asked quietly.

“Way too much,” Alexander replied.

“I miss Paine.”

“I miss Laurens.”

There was silence for a second. Alexander sighed and looked up, gently brushing a tear away from Mercy’s cheek. “We’ll get Paine back, yeah? He’s probably somewhere close to Eliza.”

“Yeah,” Mercy said, pulling Alexander close and giving him a tight hug. “Stay safe, alright? Need you here with me. I’m selfish.”

Alexander chuckled. “Love you too, Mercy.”

Mercy pulled away. “Let’s get going. We’ve got work to do.”

Alexander nodded, bracing himself as the plane touched down. There was a quick jolt, but it settled in a second. Angelica pressed a button that turned off the hovercraft. It was probably a huge disadvantage that they were unable to conceal the hovercraft in any way, but Angelica had said that it was the best location. There wasn’t much that they could do anyway. 

Getting into the main part of the district required them to sneak past a line of redcoats. That was the part Alexander was scared about. They’d need to get in without arousing any type of suspicion, which was what they were all talking about.

Not so much talking as much as attempting-not-to-punch-another-person-in-the-face-because-what-they-were-saying-was-wrong.

Cosway’s approach was to stun a few redcoats and sneak in that way, leaving as little a trail as possible. Angelica was the first to point out that stunning a redcoat would probably alert the other redcoats to their presence. Still, it meant that they'd be able to get in without being seen. 

Mercy’s plan was to send a small group of people in first, which made it easier to sneak past the guards. The small group of people would then have to figure out another way in that everyone else would be able to use. The problems with this plan were that there was always a chance that the small group of people wouldn't be able to figure out another way in, and that time would be wasted. 

Ben’s was to let a small group of people in, but to have the rest of the people just wait outside until they had all the information needed to make their escape. The problem with that plan was that nobody wanted to wait around. It would probably be hard to find food or other resources if they had to stay a long time. 

Laf wanted to sneak in one at a time, but that left the entire group exposed for too long, especially since not everybody knew their way around the district very well. Ben and Angelica could lead people around, since Ben had memorized a map of the area and it was Angelica’s home district. Everyone else was pretty much screwed. 

Alexander proposed letting people sneak in on two smaller groups, one led by Ben and one by Angelica. That way, they’d be able to get into the district and have someone in their group to lead them in the right direction. There were absolutely no flaws with it. Then again, Alexander was biased. 

“Why don't we just vote on it?” Alexander asked finally, rubbing his temples from the yelling. Everyone turned to look at him.

“Isn't it better to try to combine all the ideas we have? Cooperation is better than competition,” Cosway said. 

Then started the next argument, which had somehow wandered off into an argument about what political structure would be the best. 

“You guys are the ones asking for a democracy! Why don't we just vote on how to get in?” Alexander asked. 

“Because part of a stable democracy is amendmending. That's clearly not what you’re doing here, Hamilton,” Cosway shot back. “You're not even trying to-”

“I'm not trying?” Alexander asked. “ _I’m_ not trying. Wonderful. You've clearly forgotten how-”

“Fun fact Hamilton, everyone here is struggling. You’re not special. We all help each other. We don't spend every day sulking in corners and neglecting work. Grow up,” Cosway shot back. 

There was silence for a few seconds. Tears were pricking at Alexander’s eyes. 

“We can vote and combine the two ideas that get the most votes. It's probably the best idea,” Ben said, breaking the silence. 

“I agree with Ben. Let's just vote. Talking things through isn't working,” Mercy said carefully. 

There was a murmur of agreement. 

“Okay. All in favor of Maria’s plan?” Angelica asked. 

Nobody put their hands up. Made sense. There were better ways to get in that didn't involve making redcoats suspicious. 

“Mercy’s?”

No hands. 

“Ben’s?”

Laf and Ben both put their hands up. 

“Laf’s?” 

Nobody’s hands again. 

“Alexander’s?”

Mercy, Angelica, and Alexander raised their hands. Cosway seemed to debate herself for a second before raising her own. 

“Okay, guess we’re combining Ben’s and Alexander’s,” Angelica said.

“Just do Alexander’s. I don't think there's a good way to combine both of them,” Ben said.

“Okay. Split into groups,” Angelica said. 

Alexander went with Ben and Laf while Mercy, Cosway, and Angelica formed another group.

“We’ll sneak in first. You guys come in after a little. Ben, use the back routes, alright? We meet at my father’s,” Angelica said. 

There were nods, but nobody said anything. 

“Okay. Let's go,” Angelica said, setting off towards the district, leaving Alexander’s group behind.

“Are you okay, Alex?”

“Fine,” Alexander said, sighing and closing his eyes. He didn't want to deal with anything right now. It seemed like everything was too much. He didn't want to talk right now. He just wanted to disappear.

“Are you sure, because-”

“Give him space, Laf,” Ben said. “Helping people isn't always talking it through with them.”

“Okay,” Laf said softly.

Ben led Laf closer to the hovercraft, and they began to talk about something. Alexander could hear bits and pieces of their conversation every now and then. It was calming, in a way. 

He let himself cry. 

Crying seemed to make him feel better, giving him a strange sense of calm. He took a deep breath, standing up and walking over to Ben and Laf. 

“Feeling better?” Ben asked. Alexander nodded. “Okay, good. It's time to go.”

Ben began to lead them toward the district, blasters badly concealed in their shirts. They stopped a while away, hiding in the line of trees that marked the edge of the district. There seemed to be an opening in the line of guards that seemed like it would be easy to exploit. Still, they needed a way to make sure the guards didn't notice them. 

“Old throw-a-rock trick?” Ben asked.

Alexander shrugged. There was really nothing else that he could think of. 

“Why don't we blast one of the older trees so that it falls down. The redcoats would run to inspect it and decide that the tree fell down because it was old and that there was nothing here. Does that work?” Laf asked. 

“Better than throwing a rock,” Ben said. “Who has the best aim here?”

Laf took out his blaster, angling it for one of the trees in the distance. He fired once, and there was a snap as the tree cracked. He fired again, and it fell over with a loud thud. The redcoats closest to them walked towards the sound, and Ben began to sprint towards the main district, Laf and Alexander on his heels. They crossed into the first line of buildings, and Ben led them to the alleyways in between the buildings. 

It looked completely different from District 12, first thing being the fact that some of the buildings were actually closer to skyscrapers. In District 12, not building was ever as high as the buildings they were crossing right now. Alexander looked up at them in awe. Everything was so much cleaner here. Alexander couldn't see anybody on the streets. The air smelled fresh. 

“Skyscrapers?” Laf asked. 

“Hah, nope,” Ben said. “These are only like six floors.”

Wait, if these were too little to be skyscrapers, exactly how big were skyscrapers?

“How tall is a skyscraper, then?”

“They’re like, 100 floors or something. Nothing like these buildings. Angelica’s place has 25 floors, but that's because they live on the penthouse of their factory.”

Alexander couldn't stop his eyes from widening. It looked amazing. He expected to see stuff like this at the Capitol, but in one of the districts? That seemed impossible. 

“Was the tribute center a skyscraper, then?”

“Pretty much, but only since each of the floors were so tall. It was only 13 stories, right?” Ben asked rhetorically. 

Alexander nodded to himself, continuing to walk through the alleyways in between each of the buildings. 

“Guys, stop,” Laf said, looking at some of the graffiti on the side of a building. Ben walked back towards him, and Alexander looked at the wall. 

There was a painting of a boy, curly hair and freckles and smiling face, painted onto the wall. Alexander kneeled down next to it, recognizing the face instantly. The painting was small, and Alexander could see the strokes that showed it was rushed. Probably was, considering it’d be illegal to paint it. The rest of the wall was clean, even though Alexander could see pieces of paint in the other parts of the wall, which meant that they had cleaned the rest of the wall, but left the mural of John. There was a heart right behind John’s face. He traced his fingers over it, biting his lip. John’s eyes were closed, like he was sleeping. Alexander rested his forehead against it for a second, trying to keep himself from crying. At least John was remembered. 

“Wait, it says something,” Ben said, looking under the portrait. Alexander leaned back, looking down at it. 

_Fight for love._  
_John Laurens  
_3001-3017__

___Alexander felt Lafayette’s hand on his shoulder and leaned against it, closing his eyes._ _ _

___“He is not gone, Alexander,” Laf said softly._ _ _

___Alexander nodded, wiping away his tears. He pressed a kiss to his fingers and pressed his fingers against John’s cheek._ _ _

___“I cannot wait to tear up the fucking Capitol," Alexander said, clutching his blaster. His voice was the quiet angry that everyone was afraid of._ _ _

___There was no turning back._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone draws me art of this, I will pay you in writing.
> 
> pls


	27. Peggy was the only Schuyler Sister not to Name a Child "Philip" and I don't Think she Liked her Father Very Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet. Have fun, lovelies.
> 
> AHHHHHHH 75K WORDS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guys tell I have a crush on Maria Cosway? And Angelica? 
> 
> Yeah.
> 
> Schuyler-centric chapter. 
> 
> Oh yeah I refer to Philip Schuyler as Schuyler and Angelica Schuyler as Angelica throughout the chapter, so if you see "Schuyler," it's not talking about the wonderful Angelica

Alexander had brushed off Cosway’s apology. She had grumbled about it afterwards, but he didn't really care about it anymore. All that was in his head was raining hell on the Capitol. Angelica was still talking to her father about something or the other, hugging him tightly as she did. Everyone else was sitting around awkwardly, waiting for something to do. They were sitting on an assortment of chairs and sofas. Alexander was leaned against Mercy on one of the sofas, Cosway was sitting on a chair, seeming to study the group with the same calculating look in her eyes that Alexander had seen when he was attempting to film the propos. He realized that he had actually never seen her in action. She had won the Hunger Games. She had killed people.

He shivered, gaze drifting over to Lafayette and Ben, who were sitting on two chairs that were pulled up next to each other. They were having a conversation in fast whispers, and Ben was hugging Lafayette through the entire thing. Angelica and her father sat on the sofa opposite from Alexander and Mercy, grinning and holding onto each other. Alexander didn’t mind. Angelica’s dad had thought that she was dead.

Alexander’s eyes darted around the room. Everything here looked so expensive. If this was a basement, he wanted to see what the penthouse they lived in looked like. Probably like something right out of the Capitol.

From the very little that he had heard, Alexander knew that Philip Schuyler had been against the Capitol. He'd been helping the rebels somehow. Smuggling or passing along information or something of the sort. Alexander didn’t trust him very much, since there was no way that he could’ve built the opulent building they were in without some form of help from the Capitol. Then again, he could also prove to be a good ally if the Capitol trusted him. 

Alexander tried to keep going, keep thinking of random things that would have no connection to John and the explosion and pointing the blaster at the one person who cared and leaving him behind and messing up something else- he messed up everything. He curled up a little bit.

“You okay?” Mercy asked, looking down at Alexander. She had been gently rubbing his shoulder for the past few minutes, and Alexander relaxed as he focused on it again.

“Just thinking,” Alexander said softly.

“What about?” Mercy asked.

Alexander sighed, burrowing a little closer. “Did you see the graffiti?”

“Yeah, I saw a quote from one of your pamphlets printed really large across the side of a building. There was one with a knife- the ones you were using in the games- that was stuck in a crown, and-”

“Did you see the mural?” Alexander asked. He hadn't seen any of what Mercy was talking about, which meant that the girls had probably taken a different route. Mercy looked in Alexander’s eyes for a few seconds, seeming to second the emotion in them. 

“No, I don't think I did,” she said softly, wiping Alexander’s cheek. He hadn't even realized that the tears were starting up again. 

Alexander sighed, giving Mercy a nod. He buried his face in Mercy’s shoulder, trying to get back to thinking about something that wasn't related to John or his smile or-

“Angelica, what the hell?” someone asked. Alexander looked up to see a child crossing their arms and looking at Angelica and her dad. They didn't look much older than nine. Alexander had no idea that Angelica had another sibling. Angelica broke apart from her dad, chuckling.

“I didn’t forget about you, Margarita,” Angelica said, opening her arms. The kid- Margarita- instantly jumped into Angelica’s lap.

“One, ew. Don’t ever call me Margarita again,” they said. “Number two, dad seemed to forget, since he didn’t tell me at all that you guys were coming, or that you were here. Or alive.”

“I didn’t know until fifteen minutes ago, Peggy,” their dad said, sighing.

“You could’ve told me fifteen minutes ago,” Peggy responded, curling into Angelica. They looked at the rest of the people in the room. “Who are these losers?”

Alexander couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Don’t be-”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Peggy snapped back at their dad, and he sighed like he had dealt with this millions of times. 

“You kids have fun,” Schuyler said, standing up and leaving the room.

Angelica sighed, looking at Peggy. “What was that all about?”

“I hate him,” Peggy said, crossing her arms again. “You guys still haven’t introduced yourselves.”

“I'm Mercy.”

“Nice to meet you, Mercy. For some reason, my parents decided to name me Margarita but I prefer Peggy, they and them pronouns, and I will not hesitate to smite you if you don't respect that,” Peggy said, looking at everyone with a death glare. Alexander chuckled. It was funny hearing it from such a small package. 

Peggy gaze zeroed in on him, and Alexander instantly regretted it. “I actually know all of you here, there's no point introducing yourselves.”

“Why-” Alexander started, but he could see Angelica shaking her head and he let his voice fade out. He really had no idea how to deal with a child, and he didn't want to mess something up. Peggy’s eyes left Alexander’s after a few seconds. 

“My sister and I are going upstairs,” she declared, standing up and beginning to pull Angelica up. 

“I can't,” Angelica said, pulling Peggy back down. 

“Why?” Peggy asked, pouting up at her sister. 

“Have to help take down the Capitol,” Angelica said, hugging Peggy. 

“That's cool! Can I come?” Peggy asked. “Is Eliza there?”

“Maybe,” Angelica said. “And you can't come.”

“Why?”

“It's too dangerous for a ten year old, Pegs,” Angelica said softly. 

“You're just like our father. He keeps saying I can't do anything,” Peggy whined. 

Angelica sighed. “Why don't you be lookout? Could you warn us if anyone’s coming?”

Peggy got up, giving Angelica a quick salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Angelica saluted back, and Peggy ran off somewhere, probably to look out. Angelica chuckled and looked back at everyone, Philip Schuyler walking back in. He sat down on the couch again, putting down a plate of finger food. Alexander had never seen half of the items on the plate before. 

“Alright, here’s the best I can do. We have a correspondent inside the Capitol, he’ll probably be willing to give you a place to stay and a way to sneak in,” he said. “Our next meeting’s only past midnight today, so it's best we wait and tell him about your arrival. You guys have the day to lay low and relax, help yourself some food, if you’d like.”

“We’d love that, thank you,” Cosway said, giving him a smile. 

“Who’s the correspondent?” Mercy asked. 

“His name’s Aaron Burr, he works at the-”

“Burr? What a kiss-ass,” Mercy said, groaning. “Are we really working with him? I don't trust him.”

“Yes, we are, and for everyone else here, he works as a gamemaker for the Hunger Games,” Schuyler said. 

Now it was Alexander’s turn to protest. “A gamemaker? We’re working with a fucking gamemaker? Are you shitting home right now? A fucking gamemaker is the reason my best friend is dead. _A fucking gamemaker_ has made our lives miserable for the last-”

Mercy gently pulled Alexander down. He hadn't even realized that he had been standing up to give his speech denouncing gamemakers, but from what Alexander could see, there was mostly agreement among the tributes. 

“And he’s the gamemaker that’s responsible for letting you escape,” Schuyler said. 

“ _Letting_ us escape? Did he let Eliza escape?” Alexander burst out, fists balled at his sides. “Did he let Washington or the other-”

“Okay, calm down, Alex. If it's the only way in, we’re going to use it,” Mercy said softly. 

“He’ll help you. He has a soft spot for the other girl that was captured, Theodosia?” Schuyler said. “They met during training, and I hate to gossip, but I believe they had an affair.”

Alexander let out a louder groan, about to protest more, but was interrupted by Peggy bursting in. “There’s a group of people,” they said, out of breath. “They’re taking out the redcoats. It's a revolt.”

“A revolt?” Schuyler asked, standing up. 

Peggy nodded, but her gaze was on Angelica. “You guys need to fight. They all think you’re dead, imagine if you showed up.”

“We can't,” Angelica said. “We need to lay low.”

“Come on, guys! It's going to be a massacre in a few minutes unless you do something!” Peggy yelled, grabbing Angelica’s hand and beginning to try to pull her. Angelica sighed and pulled her arm back. 

“You’re stronger,” Peggy said. 

“It's the games,” Angelica replied. Right. The games made you ripped as fuck, unless you were Alexander. Then again, it was mostly his fault for not eating or doing much of anything after the games ended. 

“Fine, if you’re not going, I am,” Peggy said, crossing her arms and beginning to stomp out of the room. Angelica immediately ran after her, picking her up. Peggy was kicking and whining as Angelica brought her back in. “Just leave me alone just like you always do, Angelica! You’re a horrible sister and I hate-”

“Calm down, Pegs,” Angelica said soothingly. 

“No! I won't calm down. You left me here, Angelica. You knew you were going to die and you left me here to help save Eliza. Ever thought about the fact that maybe both of you would've died and that I would've been alone? Have you ever thought about me? Ever? No, because Eliza exists and Eliza’s such a-”

“Shh, it's not a contest,” Angelica said, but Alexander could already see the guilt on her features. 

“You made it one the day you left me alone! I thought you were dead, I thought Eliza was never coming back- how do you think I felt?” Peggy screamed. Angelica clapped her hand over Peggy’s mouth. 

“You have to be a little quieter, Peggy. I'm so sorry, seriously. I had no idea-” 

Peggy must’ve done something, because Angelica’s hand was recoiling. “You know why you had no idea? Because you never think about me. You don't care.”

“Peggy-” Angelica started, but Peggy was already stalking out of the room. She sighed, looking back at everyone. 

“I'll take care of Peggy,” Cosway said, standing up and running after the youngest child.

Schuyler had something in his hands that he was frowning at. “Uh, these people at the revolt have weapons.”

“Don't they usually have weapons?” Angelica asked. 

“Yeah, usually clubs, but these are full on blasters,” he said. “Wait a second, show me your blasters.”

Angelica picked hers up and handed to her father, who examined it, before looking back at the light-up thing in his hand. “It's the same one that you have. Have the rebels been giving weapons to the colonies?”

Everyone was uneasy, sharing a look. Philip Schuyler had been allied with the rebels, and nobody mentioned the fact that they had sneaked out without permission. 

“I know that we were planning to, but not yet,” Mercy offered. 

Ben stood up, taking the glowing thing out of Schuyler’s hands. He examined it, and Alexander could see a video feed on the glowing part of it. It was like a TV, but smaller. 

“I could make you a better one by the end of the day,” Ben said. Laf coughed and Ben went back to looking at the video. “Uh, those _are_ rebels. Like, from Colony 13.”

“They are looking for us?” Laf asked. 

“Probably,” Ben said, handing the mini TV to Angelica, who everyone looked up to as leader. 

Angelica nodded. “There's no reason for them to hit Colony 3 first. It doesn't make sense. Not when they’d find more allies in the outer colonies and not before they’ve released their propos. Besides, the fact that they’re actually here says a lot.”

“This is probably a ruse to get us out there,” Mercy said. 

“Wait, why would they be looking for you?” Schuyler asked, scanning everyone’s faces. Nobody said anything, and he groaned. “Of course. They wouldn't send a mission of all tributes. You guys aren't allowed to be here.”

“Yeah, whoops,” Angelica said, chuckling nervously. 

“You’re all kids,” Schuyler said. “You need to get back right now.”

“Uh, excuse me, Mercy’s an adult,” Alexander said. 

“How old are you?” Schuyler asked Mercy. 

“Twenty,” Mercy said, shrugging. 

“She can't even drink yet! How the hell-”

“Back in her day-”

“Shut up, Alex,” Mercy said, a grin on her face. Nobody seemed to be taking anything seriously, but Alexander didn't hold it against them. Everyone had been through enough. 

“Pardon, but I believe all of us have drank before,” Lafayette said, shrugging. “Nobody pays attention to that law. Fuck what the Capitol says, right! A toast to ignoring laws.”

Schuyler could only make a loud groaning noise, like everything was paining him. Angelica rubbed her father’s back, but Alexander could see the sly smile on her face. After all, she had been the one that planned the entire thing. Mercy was chuckling. 

Peggy ran in a few moments later, out of breath. “The video feed around the building cut out, we can't tell if someone’s coming.”

“The cameras are all going out, one by one,” Cosway added, running in right after Peggy. 

The feed on the mini TV to cut out, Schuyler groaned again. “How far away is your craft?”

“It's on the clearing on the other side of the forest. You’re not making us stay here, right?” Angelica asked, raising an eyebrow. Alexander held his breath. Schuyler was supposed to be on the side of the rebels.

Schuyler sighed, before finally nodding. “Go get your sister. Come back to me.”

“I'm coming too!” Peggy said.

“No, you’re not,” Angelica said. Peggy was about to protest but Angelica kneeled down, pressing her finger over Peggy’s lips. “I need you to stay here and gather information for us, okay? You're small. Nobody will suspect you. Stay out of danger, and report to Burr for us, alright?”

Peggy’s face was crossed with a look of determination and they nodded, saluting to Angelica. Angelica wrapped her arms around Peggy, hugging her tightly and giving her a little squeeze. 

“You're crushing me!” Peggy yelled. 

Angelica only seemed to hug harder, kissing Peggy’s forehead. “I love you, alright?”

Peggy nodded. “You have to come back.”

“I will, I promise,” Angelica said. Alexander could hear her voice cracking. “Stay safe. Stay alive. I'll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Peggy said softly. 

Angelica gave them one final kiss, before standing up and looking at the rest of the group. “We’re going to get some weapons and run to the forest. Don't let anyone get near you, even if they’re offering to help. Just make it to the hovercraft, no matter what.”

Angelica gave her dad a quick salute, walking over to a portion of the wall. She typed in a code and opened it, and there was a collection of randomly assembled weapons. “We have blasters but if you're into the more old-school approach, there's also this. Did I mention we also smuggle?”

Alexander immediately ran up to the wall, slipping a belt of knives on around his waist. His aim with the blaster was shaky at best. The knives gave him some form of protection, and somehow made him feel more comfortable. There were two belts of knives in the armory, leather with little rings of fabric holding each shiny knife. It filled him with a sense of glee. Alexander slung the other belt across his shoulder. Mercy had picked up her blaster, and Angelica was sliding a machete into a sheath. If there was another thing good about the games, it was that you suddenly got skilled at wielding weapons that nobody would expect. Angelica also picked up a bow and some arrows, wearing those as well. 

Mercy had stuck to a blaster, as well as Ben and Cosway. Laf picked up a spear, which would probably be close to impossible to run with or maneuver. Negative of learning how to use obscure weapons: they were obscure for a reason. Laf didn't seem to mind much, and Alexander didn't bring it up. Laf had managed to survive most of the games with a spear. Alexander trusted him. 

“Okay, everyone ready?” Angelica asked. There was a series of nods. She closed her eyes for a second, whispering a silent prayer before her features steeled. “Alright. Let's raise some hell.”

It was only a matter of time before the rebels eventually made it to the Schuyler residence, which meant that time was of the essence. Angelica led them all up to the main level, bursting out of the building. She shot a few arrows, taking out the group of people who had somehow already started conglomerating by the building. “Maria!”

Cosway slipped past Alexander, quickly blasting everybody in the vicinity. They were all rebels. 

“Holy- how many fucking rebels did they send here?” Cosway asked. That was fifteen down. 

“They’re not all rebels, there were a few townspeople with them. I'm guessing they’re trying gain control of the colony,” Angelica said. 

“Take out all the redcoats, and it's pretty easy to control the airspace after that. All the resources here are yours,” Ben said. “Perfect.”

“I'm guessing it's not a coincidence they took Colony Three first. They're also here for us. We got to get moving,” Mercy said. 

Angelica nodded, beginning to lead them through the alleyways again. Alexander had been right earlier, she was using a different path and he didn't have to deal with the painting of John all over again. This time, he saw the other graffiti Mercy had been talking about, and his jaw set. The people needed the rebellion. 

A few minutes of relative silence later, apart from the shouts of people in the background, they were out in the open. It was honestly surprising how quickly the tall buildings ended and the grass that covered the forest began. 

“Wait,” Angelica said, looking out at the beginnings of the trees. 

Lafayette was the second to catch it. “There where are the redcoats?”

They walked forward, standing in a “V” shape so that it'd be easiest to advance. It took a few seconds of walking forward, until they were over the soft hill and could see the bottom of the field, but Alexander caught a glimpse of a redcoat. Thing was, they were lying on the ground.

“The rebels have already been here,” Lafayette breathed. 

“Run,” Angelica said, and everyone immediately obeyed. If the rebels had made it to the hovercraft, they were royally screwed. It was their only way out of the colony and towards the Capitol.

They broke through the trees, making their way to the hovercraft. There were already a bunch of rebels rummaging through the hovercraft, and a few were standing around, seeming to be guarding it. 

“Plan?” Mercy asked. 

“Blast through them,” Angelica said, instantly running towards the hovercraft and the entire group of them. Alexander could hear a few shouts, and a shot soared Angelica’s way. Something about it looked different, and Alexander watched it as it flew, hitting Angelica in the arm. She let out an agonized scream, clutching her arm. Cosway ran in directly after, shooting both the rebels in front of Angelica directly in the chest. They fell, and she quickly looked at Angelica’s arm. Someone tried to sneak up behind them, and she didn't have to even look up to shoot them in the leg. They fell, letting out a strangled yelp. She turned and shot them again, this time in the head. A sure concussion. 

Alexander had never seen Cosway in action, and _damn._

“One of you idiots better cover us!” she yelled. Alexander ran in, catching a quick look at Angelica’s arm as he did. Most of it looked burned, and there was an expression of pain on her face. Alexander looked back at the rebel’s blasters. Those were most certainly _not_ set to stun. He dodged a shot, and he saw a shot sailing towards the person who had tried to shoot him. They fell, the blast meeting its mark. 

Laf was running out next to him, and threw his spear at another rebel. It hit them in the shoulder, and they collapsed, looking at the blood with a scared expression. Alexander could recognize the face, he had seen it a few times around the underground, but he had never spoken to them. Laf slid down, picking up the blaster dropped by one of Cosway’s victims, aiming it towards the person. 

“No!” Alexander yelled, diving over and grabbing the blaster from Laf’s hands. “These aren't on stun, you’re going to kill them.”

Laf nodded quickly, understanding dawning on his face. “We must get to the craft.” 

Alexander nodded, discarding the blaster. Lafayette pulled the spear out of the person’s shoulder as he ran by, going to fight someone else. Alexander’s eyes were set on the craft. If they were able to take off, they wouldn't have to worry about everyone outside. He needed to get to the craft. 

He ran, confident in his friends’ abilities to cover him. He hid by the door. A rebel walked out of the craft and Alexander grabbed a knife out of his belt, lunging forward and tackling the rebel. He stabbed the knife into their back, hoping that it wouldn't be fatal. It'd be easy to heal them with the technology Colony 13 had. 

Another one walked out, calling for the one that Alexander had just assaulted. Alexander looked towards the girl, quickly flicking the knife towards her. It lodged into her shin and she fell off the ramp leading into the hovercraft. That was one knife gone. Alexander readied another one, twirling it between his fingers, waiting to see if he could draw anybody else out. Nobody else came out. Alexander took out another knife so that he had one in each hand.

Final boss, as Ben would say.

He ran up the ramp into the hovercraft, expecting a few rebels to fight. Instead, there was just one. The rebel turned and Alexander stumbled back, not expecting it at all. The man was leaning against one of the seats like he had no care in the world, smiling a familiar smile at Alexander.

“Well hello, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all probably expected it, but we all know you wanted it.
> 
> Fun fact I wrote the first half across from Aaron Burr's grave  
> He was,,,Burr-ied there.


	28. Thomas Jefferson Designed his own Gravestone and Epitaph. I'm Not Saying he was Emo, but

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very dark. Very intense. Angst. 
> 
> TW for violence.
> 
> It's all Thomas and Alexander this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOMEONE MADE ME ART!  
> https://hamilton-angst.tumblr.com/post/163075224536/i-came-to-ur-fic-for-jamilton-but-now-im-actually
> 
> I did say that I'd pay you in writing so if you want a specific AU or pairing or anything, just drop into my askbox.
> 
> I apologize for this chapter.

Alexander’s first thought was to reach for a blaster. Of course, because it would be easiest to shoot the man in front of him again, mess it up like he did last time. _Hey Hamilton, you should probably aim for the head this time so that he gets a concussion!_

Alexander shook his head, trying to get rid of the voice saying how all of this is _his_ fault and that he somehow deserves everything that is happening to him right now. 

There was a small part of him at just wanted to run over and hug Thomas, hold onto him and rest his head on the taller boy’s shoulder. There was a small part of him that wanted to go back to relaxing on Thomas’ bed, teasing him about something or the other. There was a small part of him that wanted his gaze to flicker down to Thomas’ lips so that Thomas knew what he wanted and would give it to him, because he was pretty sure Thomas wanted it too. 

Of course, by a _small part_ he meant almost every fiber of his existence. Basically, he was screwed. 

He clutched the knives tighter, waiting for Thomas to make the first move. Thomas seemed to be waiting for him to do the same. Alexander’s gaze shifted back to the door. It'd probably be easier for him to let someone else take care of Thomas.

“Oh no you don't, darling,” Thomas said, smacking a button on the control panel with a balled fist. The door hissed as it shut. Alexander was trapped inside. He looked back at Thomas with wide eyes. Thomas shrugged, the carefree aura dissipating. There was a soft look in his eyes. He walked towards Alexander, smiling down at him. “Got us some privacy.”

He'd always been like this. Tender in private with Alexander, and cocky and overconfident when they were out in front of other people. Alexander still hadn't said anything, feeling frozen in place. 

“Well?” Thomas asked, and Alexander could hear the waver in his voice. Alexander’s brain finally kicked in, and he started to notice the other things. Thomas was in rebel uniform, and Alexander could see him shifting into a fighting stance. He was probably afraid that Alexander would attack him. Around his hip was a holster, and the blaster was right there. Thomas’ fingers were floating right above it, as if he was trying to figure out if he needed it.

Alexander took another step away from him. He had already seen what the blaster could do, and he didn't want to deal with that. His eyes met Thomas’ again, searching for something. 

“Okay, Alexander, I really don't want to fight, but you need to come back,” Thomas said, stepping closer. Alexander held the knife out defensively. 

“No.”

Thomas stepped closer carefully, and Alexander shuffled back again. 

“Stay back,” Alexander hissed. 

Thomas stepped closer again, and Alexander held his ground this time, readying the knife to throw. He wasn't sure what he was going to do. 

“We both know you wouldn't hurt me,” Thomas said. “Physically, at least.”

“You’re just goading me on,” Alexander replied. “Step closer, and I throw.”

Thomas pulled out the blaster, and Alexander shivered as he felt it being aimed at him. “Put down the knives, or I shoot.”

The blaster was aimed for Alexander’s chest. If it hit him there, he'd be out of commission for more than just a few days. It could possibly damage something permanent. These weren't the stun blasters. This was serious. Alexander’s eyes widened in fear all over again, before he squeezed them shut, feeling the tears pushing at them all over again. Did Thomas really want to hurt him that much?

Alexander dropped the knives, shaking a little bit as he did. He heard them clatter on the ground. 

“What- you did the same thing to me, Alexander,” Thomas said, a hint of surprise in his voice, like he hadn't expected Alexander to listen. 

Except no, Alexander didn't. Alexander had just threatened to stun Thomas, nothing this serious. He shook his head, words failing him again. Thomas had every reason to hate him, but the fact that he was willing to go this far? Alexander couldn't help the whimper that escaped from his lips. He was terrified and upset and he just wanted to disappear. 

“Alexander? I put down the blaster. You can open your eyes. What's the matter?” Thomas asked, as if he wasn't just threatening to burn a hole into Alexander’s chest. Alexander shook his head again, it was the best he could do, backing up without opening his eyes. He wanted to get _away_. Far away. 

“Alexander, I won't stun you if you don't want me to, but you have to come with me,” Thomas said slowly. 

Alexander shook his head again, knowing he couldn't put up much of a protest. Not when he was like this. Did Thomas really not realize what he was threatening to do? It wasn't stun. He was probably just going to kill Alexander either way, it was probably some ruse so that Alexander would let Thomas kill him without much of a fight. 

“Alexander, breathe,” Thomas said. “Focus on my voice.”

“I don't want to hear your voice,” Alexander snapped, shrinking away behind one of the seats. He went through what Lafayette had been asking him to do, focusing the stuff around him, touching the fabric of the seats, listening to the distance blaster fire. It took a while, but the tears stopped and his breathing slowed. The entire time, Thomas hadn't said a word. Some part of Alexander thought he was gone, that he had just imagined it all. 

Alexander stayed crouched, peeking up over the couch, his eyes catching onto Thomas’ frame. Thomas was leaning against a seat again, looking out of the window. There seemed to be more rebels now, and a bunch of redcoats as well. There was blaster fire everywhere. Alexander sighed, standing up. It was weird to be away from it all, watching the action through a window. 

The chair creaked. Thomas looked back over, tears glittering in his eyes. 

“Why do you hate me?” he asked softly.

“Could ask you the same question, since you were threatening to kill me a few minutes ago,” Alexander replied, voice steely. There was no more fear in him. All that was left was anger. He had snapped. He'd gone through enough and he wasn't about to lose anything else. 

“No, I wasn't,” Thomas said. 

“It's not set to stun. Look outside. Have you really not noticed that by now?” Alexander asked. He pulled out a knife as Thomas turned back to the window. “You were threatening to _kill_ me.”

“I didn't know,” Thomas said, looking back at Alexander. His eyes caught on the glinting knife in Alexander’s hand, and it was his turn for his mouth to go dry. Knives didn't exactly have a stun setting.

“Get out, Jefferson,” Alexander said, grip on the knife tightening.

“No, I need you back. Don't you understand? If your ragtag team of children ends up failing, you’re going to-”

“It won't fail if you stop meddling, Jefferson. Get. Out,” Alexander snarled. 

Jefferson shook his head. “Alexander, if this fails, you're going to die, I don't want you to-” 

“You had no problem with it a few minutes ago,” Alexander said, stepping closer. “Get out. Last time. I'm not going to hesitate, Jefferson. You should know that by now.”

“Alexander, please-”

“Fine,” Alexander said, throwing the knife with the same flick of the wrist that Jefferson had taught him so long ago. 

Well, it seemed like long ago. It was only three weeks. Everything had changed. Alexander should be dead by now. 

Jefferson deflected the knife, using his blaster as a shield. It clattered on the ground and Jefferson looked at Alexander with scared eyes. Whatever. Jefferson knew how to stop this, all he needed to do was stop meddling. Alexander ran forward, pulling out another knife before lunging, arm outstretched. Jefferson grabbed Alexander’s wrist, stopping the knife from meeting its mark. 

“Stop it, Alexander,” Jefferson said. 

“Get out,” Alexander repeated, pulling another knife from the belt with his other hand, arching his arm upwards this time as he tried to get to Jefferson. He was stopped again, this time by Jefferson twisting his wrist behind his back. He dropped the knife that was in the arm being held by Jefferson, but he slashed the other knife towards the taller boy. Jefferson dodged out of the way, letting go of Alexander’s wrist in the process. 

“Hamilton. Stop,” Jefferson said, his tone changing almost completely. 

“Get the fuck out, Jefferson,” Alexander said, getting ready to attack him again. Another knife sailed through the air, but Jefferson ducked, picking a knife off the ground. The knife Alexander had just thrown clattered against the control panel. He needed to get to the panel to open the door again, but Jefferson was in the way. 

“You seem to forgot that I taught you how to use that knife in the first place,” Thomas said, dodging Alexander’s next two slashes. He threw the knife he had in his own hand. It grazed the skin of Alexander’s arm, whooshing past him and embedding itself into the seat behind him. There was a soft trickle of blood, and Jefferson looked at it for a second, raising an eyebrow. Alexander couldn't place the emotion on Jefferson’s face. 

All of Alexander’s had missed. Jefferson had hit him with his first attempt. Alexander was screwed.

Jefferson picked up another dropped knife, and Alexander dodged this one in time. He was still holding onto the arm where the blood was leaking out. Thomas had actually done it. The cut was right under Alexander’s shoulder, nowhere serious, but there was a growing bloodstain on his sleeve. 

Angelica had a key to the hovercraft. Why wasn't she or Cosway here yet? They couldn't both be gone, could they?

Alexander crouched down behind a seat, making it hard for Jefferson to get him with the other knife. He readied another knife, peeking up behind the seat for a second. Thomas’ knife cut through the air right above Alexander's head. Alexander yelped, ducking back down, forcing himself to keep taking deep breaths.

He heard the footsteps walking over to where he was, and charged towards the sound, knife glinting. Jefferson already seemed to be one step ahead of him, grabbing the wrist with the knife in it effortlessly. Alexander groaned. He'd fallen for the same trick again.

“Another thing you seem to forget is that I trained all my life for the Hunger Games. I trained to kill,” Jefferson said. His voice was dangerously low. Alexander shivered, struggling to pull his hand out of Jefferson's grip. It wasn't working. He could feel himself starting to freak out again, his brain failing him. “I beat every other kid in my colony, and I volunteered a year early, because I was better than everyone older than me.”

Jefferson was right, though. He had been trained to kill as a child, and that's what Alexander was fighting to stop. It was what both of them were fighting for. Alexander tried to remember that to keep himself calm, because seeing Jefferson trying to hurt him was painful. 

Especially when he was talking about killing. 

Jefferson pulled him closer, looking down at him with a hint of a malicious smile. Their faces were so close together, but Alexander couldn't sort out how he felt about that because of Jefferson’s vice-like grip on his hand. Jefferson dug a nail into Alexander’s wrist until the pain was too much and the knife clattered to the ground. Alexander was terrified. Jefferson looked directly into his eyes, and Alexander couldn't look away. 

“It's certainly cute that you think you even stand a chance against me,” Jefferson said. “But cute’s not going to win. Now, you’re coming back with me to Colony 13. We’re actually going to come up with a good plan that isn't going to get you and everyone else killed, and-”

“They’re already getting killed thanks to you, asshole. Look outside. Remember how I said the blasters weren't set to stun?” Alexander asked, hand spasming from Jefferson’s nail in his wrist. Jefferson moved his thumb away and Alexander’s hand stopped twitching. “We’re dying out there. And pardon me if I'm not that comfortable going back with you, since you almost killed me, too.”

Jefferson let go of Alexander’s wrist and Alexander pushed past him, smacking the button that Thomas had earlier, letting the door open again. Alexander picked up the knife that had gotten stuck between the buttons in the control panel, putting it back into his belt. Alexander could still feel the impression of Jefferson’s fingernail into his wrist, a red crescent tattooed onto his skin. 

Alexander began to walk outside again. He needed to help everyone as much as he could. Jefferson grabbed his wrist again, and Alexander whirled, getting ready to stab Jefferson in the arm. Jefferson let go and stepped away. 

“I'm sorry,” Jefferson said. 

Alexander sighed. “I acknowledge that but Jefferson, do you-”

“Thomas.”

“What?” Alexander asked. 

“Call me Thomas, please,” Jefferson said. 

“No,” Alexander said. “I know you're sorry, but that's just not going to cut it.”

Jefferson nodded, looking down. “At least let me try to make it up to you?”

“How would you do that?” Alexander asked. 

Jefferson stepped a little closer, looking up a little and studying Alexander’s face. Alexander tried to keep himself from blushing. The feelings were still there, and he hated it. “Spying.”

“Spying?” Alexander asked. 

“Yeah, I can spy for you, tell you where the rebels are going, what they’re doing,” Jefferson said. 

Alexander shook his head. “Hate to break it to you, but the rebels probably don't trust you, and neither does anyone on our side. You're on your own.”

“No-”

“Yes. You don't have a good way of contacting us and I bet that the rebels can figure out a way to feed you false information, and that's completely ignoring the fact that _I_ don't trust you anymore.”

He began to walk down the ramp again, but Jefferson called after him again. 

“Alexander?” 

Alexander turned, irritated. “What do you want?”

“Don't die. Please,” Jefferson said. “I really wouldn't be able to take it and the fact that I almost killed you is-”

“I won't,” Alexander said, about to turn again. 

“Alexander, I love you.”

Alexander froze, unsure of how to react. Did he love Thomas? Yes. Was he going to admit it after everything that had just happened?

No.

More than a huge part of him wanted to run over and kiss Thomas until his entire thing was over. The rest of him wondered why he hadn't yet. 

“I want to be with you,” Jefferson said. “I want to be yours. I want to cuddle and braid your hair and-”

Alexander stepped closer and pressed their lips together for a split second, silencing Th- Jefferson. It was still Jefferson. He broke away almost immediately, turning back towards the field and wiping his lips before he could even see Jefferson’s face. 

This was what Alexander had wanted, right? This was what he was dreaming about. Still, it felt so incredibly wrong, and he didn't want to deal with the sinking feeling in his gut. 

“Never talk to me again,” Alexander murmured.

“Alexander-” Thomas said, but Alexander was already taking out another knife and running back into the battle, leaving Thomas alone at the top of the ramp.


	29. Laf was the One to Outlive all his (Musical) Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By that I mean Laurens, Washington, Hamilton, Mulligan (even though they most likely never met in real life), and Jefferson, in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay wow that last chapter was honestly painful to write. The point of all of that was to show that it's really not healthy for them to be in a relationship, like, at all. Yeah. 
> 
> That being said, it is a /Jamilton/ fanfic so their relationship is still going to impact a lot and shit's going to happen.
> 
> TW for implied death, blood, and violence this chapter.

Maybe running directly into the heat of the battle without a plan wasn’t a good idea.

Scratch that. 

It was definitely a bad idea. 

All the blaster fire began to converge on Alexander as he tried to get to Cosway and Angelica. He slid down next to them. Cosway had gotten shot in the foot and was still managing to put up a fight, and Angelica didn’t seem to be awake. Alexander swallowed. 

“We can’t get to the hovercraft. There’s too many people in the way,” Cosway said, shooting two more people behind Alexander. Only one of the shots hit its mark. Alexander could tell that she was getting tired. He picked up a blaster of a stunned rebel, beginning to help Cosway with shooting. He scanned the area, trying to find the others. Mercy had somehow gotten into a fistfight with a few of the redcoats, and was holding up pretty well, but even her movements were lagging. Ben and Laf were shooting a bunch of people, covering each other, but they weren’t going anywhere. Laf didn’t have his spear in his hand anymore. Alexander guessed that he abandoned it, which meant that the blaster in his hand was probably _not_ on stun.

Alexander could see a few planes cutting across the horizon, which could only be reinforcements. They were severely outnumbered, and the chances of survival were lessening every second.

“Alexander.”

Alexander knew the voice, and he really didn’t want to deal with Jefferson right now. He looked towards the sound with an annoyed expression. He could tell Jefferson had tears in his eyes, but he didn’t comment on them. Jefferson was holding a pair of keys in front of him. 

“I can lead you to where our hovercrafts are parked. There should be medical supplies in there,” Jefferson said. 

“How do I know this isn’t a trap? You could-”

“It’s not a trap! Do you really think-”

“Yes,” Alexander said, and he tried to ignore the feeling of guilt that settled in his stomach as soon as he saw the look on Jefferson’s face.

“Alexander, we need those supplies,” Cosway said. “Angelica. I can’t lose her.”

_“We need the medicine for John,” Alexander insisted._

“How do we know that he’s not trying to capture us?” Alexander asked.

“We’re going to die if we don’t get medical help. It’s at least something,” Cosway argued.

 _“We’re not going to get further into the games if we don’t get more supplies.”_

“I’m going to go with him. You get everyone else, okay?” she asked. Alexander could hear a hint of desperation in her voice, a waver in the never ending confidence. 

_“I’m going to go,” John said, voice quiet._

“Fine,” Alexander said. He looked up at Jefferson. “They better be alive.”

_“Take care of him, okay?” John asked._

Jefferson nodded, slipping one of Angelica’s arms over his shoulder. Cosway took the other and they began to walk back towards the town. Alexander ran over to Mercy, shooting two redcoats on his way. He knew the blaster he was using wasn't the stun one, and he was careful to at least try to aim for limbs instead of anywhere important.

“Get into the alleys, follow Jefferson and Cosway. I'll get Ben and Laf,” Alexander said quickly. Mercy nodded, running by a bunch of redcoats that were too busy firing at a bunch of rebels, and a bunch of rebels too worried about the redcoats. 

Alexander ran towards Ben and Laf, repeating the same piece of information. They ran, Ben, then Laf, then Alexander, fleeing the scene and hoping nobody had seen them. Alexander looked back as they ran. The rebels were clearly losing. They weren't retreating yet, which meant that they still might pull through. 

Alexander suddenly crashed into Laf, letting out a groan. He looked up at Laf, who was looking at Ben. 

“Alexander? I don't know which way Mercy went,” he said, and Alexander could see the fear on his face.

“It's okay,” Alexander said. He knew that they weren't getting anywhere if Ben couldn't stay calm. 

“Take a deep breath,” Laf soothed, stepping away from Ben. He motioned for Alexander to step away too, and Alexander did what Lafayette said. “We can figure this out.”

“You have the map of the colony memorized, right?” Alexander asked. 

Ben nodded, hair flying as he did. 

“Okay, is there any area that a bunch of rebel hovercrafts could land without being noticed by redcoats?” Alexander asked. 

Ben shook his head. “I mean, we landed at the edge of Colony Nine, the only other place close enough would be at the border between Eight and Three.”

“Eight?” Lafayette asked.

Ben nodded, and Alexander saw Lafayette’s eyes brighten a little, before he looked down again. Right, that was Laf’s home district.

Twelve was gone, a pile of dust and ashes.

“You can get us to the border, right?” Alexander asked. Ben immediately nodded, beginning to weave in between the buildings. Alexander and Lafayette followed close behind him. 

“Wait, shut up for a second,” Ben said. They all stopped running, and Alexander could hear other footsteps and distant voices. 

“Rebels or redcoats?” Alexander asked.

“Accent is definitely not redcoat,” Laf said. “They’re probably getting to the skirmish.”

It was both good and bad news. Good, because it meant that they were getting close to where the rebels had landed. Bad, because everyone was looking for them. How much longer before there were redcoat reinforcements?

Ben’s gaze traveled up.

“Can you guys climb?” Ben asked. 

Alexander’s eyes scanned the building Ben was looking at. It looked to be around nine stories high, as did most of the surrounding buildings. It was a good plan, try to get up there and manage to get from building to building. There seemed to be enough windowsills and footholds for Alexander to reach the top.

“Yeah,” Alexander said. 

It took a second, but Lafayette nodded as well. 

Ben grinned. “Alright. Let’s get to the other side of this building so that we’re facing the opposite direction as everyone. We don’t want anybody seeing us.”

Ben walked around to another side of the building, grabbing onto the top of a window, and resting his foot onto the bar that separated the top and the bottom parts of the window. He hoisted himself up, keeping his chest close to the wall. He exhaled.

“Okay, the hard parts are going to be the parts in between windows,” Ben said, reaching his arm up and searching for a hold. He finally caught onto a protruding brick and hoisted himself up again, moving his foot to the top of the window. “Let’s go.”

Alexander offered to let Lafayette go in front of him, but Laf refused. Alexander followed the same movements as Ben, grabbing onto the same holds as him as they continued up the side of the building. There was a sconce at one point that they were able to hold onto, and it was a nice rest for Alexander’s fingers. He stopped and took a couple of deep breaths. He was halfway up.

The voices continued to pass beneath them, but none of the rebels had actually seen them. Alexander focused on the building, and that was it. It had only been a few minutes, but it seemed to stretch on and on in Alexander’s mind.

Ben was on the final window, and Alexander was right under him. They were almost at the top.

“I can’t do it,” Laf said. It was a loud whisper, trying to catch the attention of Alexander and Ben without alerting anyone else to their position. His voice was a lot farther away that Alexander had thought. 

Alexander looked down. Lafayette had one foot on the window of the third floor, his other foot dangling as he held onto the lamp. He was five floors down from where Alexander was. 

“Laf, deep breaths, alright? Don’t look down, focus on holding on,” Ben yelled. Alexander looked up at him. He was already at the top of the building, holding out his hand so that Alexander could get on top as well. Alexander quickly scaled the last window, jumping up and clasping onto Ben’s hand. Ben handed Alexander his blaster, before swinging a leg over the edge of the building. He began to slowly climb back down, until he was right by where Laf was.

Alexander could hear murmurs of conversation drifting up to where he was, but he couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying. He watched Ben climb down another story so that he and Laf were on the same window. Laf finally let one of his hands reach up and grab onto the next windowsill, pushing himself up suddenly and switching his handhold into a foothold.

“Good job!” Ben said, climbing up to the next window as well. He led Laf through the next few, and soon enough, Laf was close enough that Alexander could hold out his hand to reach him. Laf quickly grabbed onto Alexander’s hand, and Alexander pulled him over onto the roof.

“I did it!” Laf said excitedly. 

Ben was on the final window, right under Lafayette. He was reaching out onto the final handhold. “See? I told you, you could-”

The next few instants happened way too fast. 

Blast.

Ben’s arm tensed up as he let go of the one armhold he had. 

Alexander and Laf both tried to grab Ben but it was too late, and he was careening backwards.

_He was too late._

_Blood._

_Death._

Alexander expected the cannon blast. 

There was none. 

He was the first to realize that whoever it was would start aiming for Laf and him next, and quickly tackled Laf so that the blasts wouldn't be able to reach them. 

Alexander could hear a few whizz over their heads. He picked up the blaster Ben gave them and fired a few shots down. He looked down, and he could see Ben moving a little bit.

Alive. 

There was still a chance. He looked over the edge and shot a few more blasts at the person below. 

A few more shots at Alexander. 

Alexander looked over again, squeezing the trigger. No blast came out. The gun was out of power. Alexander aimed and chucked it over the side, and he heard a clunk and then an “ow” that signified that the blaster had hit its mark. 

He looked over again for a second. A redcoat was scaling the building, headed straight for them.

They couldn't go back for Ben. 

Alexander didn't want to leave him there, lying on the ground, blood beginning to pool around him. 

There was nothing he could do. Ben was gone. He didn't deserve to die like this. 

Alone.

“Laf, we have to go,” Alexander said, running by and taking Laf’s hand. 

Laf wasn't responding. 

Alexander didn't blame him. The only thing keeping Alexander moving was fear. 

Alexander wrapped his arms around Laf’s torso, under his arms, and began to drag him to the other end of the building. It took too long, and Alexander couldn't jump to the next building without him. 

He could hear a shout from the redcoat on the building. She was probably alerting more people to their position. Alexander and Laf needed to get out. 

Now.

“Laf, you need to get up, it's the only way we’re getting anywhere,” Alexander said. 

“Ben’s-”

“We can't get Ben, or we’re going to die,” Alexander said. 

“Ben’s not dead,” Lafayette said. 

Alexander bit his lip. 

They needed to go. 

Laf wasn't going to go if Alexander broke the news that Ben was almost certainly-

He _had_ seen Ben move.

There was still a chance-

“He isn't,” Alexander said, feeding into Laf’s denial. “We’re going to meet up with him when we’re in the Capitol, alright? But we need to keep moving. That's what he wanted- wants.”

As much as it was warping the truth, Alexander needed Laf to keep moving. Laf couldn't break right now, there were people on their heels, and they weren't going to survive if they didn't keep moving. 

“Capitol.”

“Yes, that's where we’re going right now, but we need to run right now,” Alexander said. 

“Right!” Lafayette said, smiling at Alexander. 

Alexander looked down, biting his lip, harder this time. He tried to shake the feeling that he was making this worse somehow, but they needed to go. Alexander could hear the grumbles of the redcoat climbing the building, and there was fear seeping into the guilt. 

“Let's go,” Laf said, leaping the gap between the buildings easily. 

Alexander had no choice but to follow, leaping the gap and stumbling a little. Laf seemed to know where to go, District Eight was his home, after all. The treeline that separated the Districts was easy to see, and they continued in that direction. 

_There was still a chance._

Alexander let himself look back once, Ben’s body flashing in his mind, before he looked forward again. 

_No._

Alexander jumped the next gap, stumbling as he landed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~metaphorical stumbling~
> 
> Jfc I'm sorry for quoting Chapter 13 wayy too much to be allowed.
> 
> OKAY SOME GOOD THINGS THAT HAPPENED WHILE WRITING THIS:
> 
> 1) I GOT MORE ART: https://hamilton-angst.tumblr.com/post/163212932951/im-going-to-rant-now-um-ok-i-just-want-to GOOD CHAPTER 10 HAMLAF OKAY (i'm going to go through and put these links in their correct chapters in the morning but LOOK AT THE AMAZINGNESS)
> 
> 2) I PASSED 177.6K LIFETIME WORDS. THATS ONE YEAR AND TWO MONTHS OF WRITING AND IM JUST AHHHH RIGHT NOW
> 
> Okay that's all, folks! Next chapter's probably going to be fluffier


	30. Laf's Mother, Father, and Grandfather were all Dead by the Time he was Two, Making him a Full-Fledged Marquis as a Toddler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THERE ARENT ENOUGH OF THESE CHAPTERS LEFT FOR ALL OF MY LAF FACTS NOOOOOO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of research that went into this chapter is apalling, considering how little of it shows.

Alexander and Laf made it to the rebel hovercrafts pretty easily, mostly because Laf ws tall and Alexander just wanted to get out of there. What happened to Ben wasn’t fair at all, and the lie Alexander told Laf was still weighing on him. Ben wasn’t going to be waiting for them at the Capitol. Ben was probably dead by now. They continued in the direction that Ben had shown them, towards the outskirts of Colony 8. Alexander could see the edges of the colony from where they were on top of the buildings. Climbing down hadn’t been hard; the buildings around the edges of the colony weren't as tall. They made it to the treeline on the edge of the colony, and eventually found the hovercrafts. 

Cosway, Angelica, and Jefferson were already there in one of the hovercrafts. Jefferson seemed to be guarding the outside while Cosway tried to deal with Angelica’s arm. Alexander couldn't see Mercy. He grabbed Laf’s arm and ran inside. 

“Where’s Ben?” Jefferson asked. 

Alexander shook his head, right as Laf answered, “We’re meeting him in the Capitol!”

Alexander visibly winced at the cheery tone. “Denial,” he mouthed. Jefferson nodded. 

“Where's Mercy?” Alexander asked. Thomas looked over at Cosway. 

“She decided to stay back in the colony so that she could help with the rebellion. Besides, it's going to be hard to get all of us into the Capitol anyway,” Cosway said. “It's easier with a smaller group.”

“But there's a bunch of Capitol crafts flying in right now! We can't just leave her there, she’s not going to be able-”

“I think you'll find that Mercy is extremely capable, Alexander,” Cosway said. “Do me a favor and shut up. I have issues to tend to.”

Alexander looked over at Angelica, studying her. She wasn't moving at all, and all the equipment around her was foreign to him. Angelica’s eyes were closed, and her entire body was limp. “Is she-”

“She's not dead,” Cosway said. Alexander just nodded. He wasn't sure if it was just denial or if Angelica really had a chance. He looked at Jefferson for an answer.

Jefferson walked over. “She's just sedated,” he whispered. 

Alexander nodded, sighing. 

“Are you going to tell Laf about Ben?” he asked softly.

“I was planning to tell him after we got here,” Alexander explained, taking a deep breath. He didn't know how to break the news. He turned towards Laf, who was trying to help out Cosway as much as possible. Laf was the happiest person here, and he didn't want to ruin that. Everyone else was in a varying state of despair. Alexander looked back at Jefferson, unsure of why he'd just gone back to telling him stuff. Alexander guessed that it was just because he needed someone, and Jefferson was the only person available at the moment. “I just- I can't ruin it for him.”

“Remember how you felt when I kept the fact that Eliza was alive from you? You didn't even know her and you were mad. Imagine Laf’s reaction when he figures out,” Jefferson whispered. “He and Ben, it's like-”

“I get it. I'll tell him,” Alexander said. It seemed like the only good and selfless decision he's made in a while, and he owed it to Laf, anyway. Laf had been there for him throughout everything, and he had to be there for Laf right now. He took a deep breath, walking up to Lafayette and gently pulling him away from the craft’s medbay. The lies and the keeping things from each other needed to stop. Alexander was going to stop it now. 

Laf followed Alexander towards the back, as far away as they could get from everyone.

“I need to talk to you,” Alexander said. It was probably the worst way to start the conversation, since he can already see Laf shifting nervously. “It's about Ben.”

Laf’s face lit up and Alexander immediately wanted to stop the conversation and make something up about Ben waiting for them. The mere mention of Ben’s name made Lafayette so happy, and Alexander hated the fact that he had to take it away from him. Alexander glanced over to Thomas, who gave him a nod. Alexander sighed, turning back to Laf.

“When we were climbing up the building, do you remember that?” Alexander asked, wondering why the hell he couldn't have just broke it to him in the first place. Right. They needed to get out. He took a deep breath. Laf had almost killed himself the last time one of his friends died. Alexander didn't know how close Hercules and Laf were, but there was almost no way they could be closer than Laf and Ben. 

Laf nodded and pulled Alexander out of the haze that had covered him. 

“Do you remember what Ben was doing?”

“Ben wasn't there,” Laf answered. 

“Laf, can you climb a building?” Alexander asked. 

Laf nodded for a second before sighing and shaking his head. “Not good.”

“Do you remember how you got to the top of the building if you can't climb well?” Alexander said carefully. “Ben was there. Ben helped you up.”

“Oh, right!” Laf said. 

“Do you remember what happened right after you reached the top?” Alexander asked, forcing out the words at this point. He was holding onto Laf’s hand tightly, waiting for the memory that would make him break. 

“We started running?”

“Because we were getting shot at,” Alexander prompted. He took a deep breath, letting it out. “Ben… Ben got shot. He fell.”

There seemed to be a flicker of realization in Laf’s eyes, and Alexander held him tighter. It wasn't what Alexander thought it was, because Laf’s next question made Alexander want to run. 

“So?” Laf asked. 

“Laf, Ben… um, he fell. From the top of the building. To the ground,” Alexander said. “I don't- he wouldn't have survived.”

“What?” Laf asked softly. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were filled with tears. He collapsed to the ground, and Alexander sat down next to him, pulling Laf against his chest. He held onto him, waiting for something to happen. He almost always expected people to explode, but Laf didn't do that. He just turned and buried his face into Alexander’s shoulder, curling up as much as possible. Alexander could hear soft sobs. He let go of Laf’s hand and hugged the older boy as tightly as possible, holding him close. 

It really wasn't fair at all. It wasn't fair to Laf. It wasn't fair to Ben. Alexander sighed, wishing he could've gotten to know Ben better. He gently rubbed Laf’s back. 

“It's okay, I’ve got you,” Alexander whispered softly, closing his eyes and letting Laf cry on him. 

“It is my fault,” Lafayette whimpered. “It is my fault again.”

“No, I promise it wasn't your fault,” Alexander soothed. 

“He would not have gone back down if it wasn't for me. It's my fault. I should've climbed better. I should have been the one that got shot, not-”

“Neither of you should’ve got shot,” Alexander said softly, hugging Lafayette tighter. Laf was limp, and he didn't move at all as Alexander hugged him. “It's the Capitol’s fault, okay? Not yours.”

“I hate them,” Laf whispered, letting out a sob. He grabbed Alexander’s shirt, curling into himself. “I hate them I hate them I hate them.”

“I know,” Alexander said softly, kissing Laf’s forehead like Laf always did for him. It seemed to work a little; Laf let go of Alexander’s shirt and relaxed a tiny bit, still crying. 

“I should have done something,” Laf whispered. “I should have saved him.”

“We both tried,” Alexander said softly, mind flashing back to reaching over the edge of the building- Ben’s flailing hands. “It didn't work, Laf. It's not fair.”

“I hate them.”

“We’re going to get them,” Alexander said softly. “They’re going to pay.”

“Killing them won't bring him back,” Laf whispered, cuddling into Alexander. “I do not want to do any of this.”

“You don't?” 

“Non. There is no way to win. Let me go, Alex. I'm going to ruin you too,” Lafayette whispered. 

“No. You're not,” Alexander said. “I promise you're not. You haven't ruined anyone.”

“Everyone I care about dies,” Lafayette murmured. He didn't seem to be crying anymore, but this somehow felt worse. Laf just sounded so broken. “My mom, my dad, my brother, Herc, and now Ben, too. I don't want to kill you, too.”

Alexander sighed, continuing to rub Laf’s back softly. 

Laf snuggled a little closer. “You remind me of my brother. So did Ben. It was like another family, since the one that I had is gone.”

“It is another family. We love you, Laf,” Alexander said softly. 

“I love you too,” Laf whispered. Alexander couldn't help but smile. “I loved Ben too. I didn't tell him.”

“You showed it very well. I'm sure he knew.”

“I didn’t love him the way you and John loved each other. He was like family,” Laf explained. “Don't think I could ever love anyone that way. Especially not anymore.”

The talking seemed to be calming Laf down, so Alexander let him continue. It felt nice to just hold Laf and let him let it out. Alexander nodded to show that he was listening. 

“It just… there seems like there is no point anymore. We can't win. Everyone I love keeps dying. It is not fair,” Laf said. 

“No, it's not fair. But that's the reason we’re fighting, Laf,” Alexander said softly. “We’re trying to fix things.”

“What's the point? Ben’s gone,” Laf murmured.

“Remember what you told me when we saw that mural of John?” Alexander asked softly. “You said he's not gone. That's true for Ben, too. There are a thousand other children just like Ben who have a chance to survive, and we’re fighting for all of them, too. There's a lot to fight for, and there's always a reason to keep fighting.”

Laf nodded, sniffling a little before burying his face into Alexander’s shoulder and beginning to cry again. Alexander snuggled him closer. “I've got you.”

They stayed like that until eventually Laf fell asleep. Jefferson helped Alexander move Laf into a seat, and Alexander walked over to Angelica. Cosway was kneeling down, looking at something on the monitors. 

“How is she?” Alexander asked. 

“Her arm. There's no way it's going to heal,” Cosway said. “I’d suggest taking the entire thing off and putting in a prosthetic arm, but we lack a prosthetic, and any way to take off her arm that wouldn't accidentally lead to an infection or something. But she's going to survive this. She just has a dead arm now.”

Alexander nodded. “Maybe Burr would have access to,” he wasn't exactly sure how to say it, “A fake arm? It'd be a lot easier to come by in the Capitol.”

“Yeah, I hope. I'm not exactly an expert on this,” Cosway said, standing up. She looked over at Alexander, opening her mouth to say something, but she was cut off by Thomas. 

“Guys, there are people coming back. We better go,” Thomas said, looking out the window. 

“Okay. I can fly,” Cosway said, making her way to the front. She looked back, calculating for a second before giving out a series of orders. “Alexander, you focus on taking care of Laf and Ange. Thomas, you’re copilot.”

“He’s staying with us?” Alexander asked.

“Yeah. We’re down three right now,” Cosway said. “Got a problem?”

“No,” Alexander said, sighing.

“Good,” Cosway said, twirling on her heel and sinking into the pilot’s seat. 

Jefferson walked up to the front, sitting down in the seat next to Cosway. There was a series of clicks, and the hovercraft began to take off. Alexander looked through the window. People were starting to head back, and it seemed to be a lot less people than what would've fit in the hovercrafts. They had probably retreated.

That's when the first explosion hit, one of the rebel hovercrafts going up in a ball of fire. Alexander moved away from the window, plugging his ears and closing his eyes. He couldn't deal with explosions. There was another muted explosion before Alexander couldn't hear the noises from outside anymore. He looked up and the windows around the back of the hovercraft were closed. He relaxed a little. Soundproofing.

It was still day, but Alexander was tired. He moved to a seat, sinking in and hugging himself a little. He wanted to write. It had been forever since he'd been able to translate the feelings in his head into words. He stood up, groaning at the effort, before poking around the medbay a little until he found a small notepad and a pen. He smiled, beginning to write out everything that had been going on. All the feelings and the guilt that he'd been going through, it was almost as if committing them to paper made them better. The notepad was only an inch bigger than Alexander’s hand, which meant that he had to keep turning the pages quickly to keep up with the constant scratching of the pen across the paper. 

After a while, he was back to writing about politics. It wasn't criticizing the Capitol anymore. No, the last few pages had been filled with plans for a government after the Capitol. There was hope now. It didn't feel completely useless to think about a life without the Capitol anymore. There was a place to go to after all of this, and Alexander couldn't wait for it. He kept his pen moving for the rest of the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the Third Act, people. TIME FOR SHIT TO GO DOWN. 
> 
> and a round of applause because Alexander didn't make a stupid decision for once??


	31. There Were Only Six People at Thomas Paine's Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NEW ACT WHO DIS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because my writing doesn't even sound like myself anymore. 
> 
> Passed 200k lifetime words!!

Alexander and Thomas were sharing a room again. Thomas asked for it, and Alexander hesitated for a second, but he didn’t protest. Burr’s eyes flickered between them, calculating in almost the same way as Cosway’s. There was Capitol makeup caked on his face, red and gold dancing across his eyelids, glitter sparkling even in the low light.

“Downstairs and to the right,” he had said, asking no questions.

Then again, it wasn’t just them. Laf was also staying in the same room, but he was already sleeping on the bed, snoring softly. Alexander could see a soft smile on Laf’s face. He hoped it was a good dream, Laf deserved it.

Cosway was upstairs with Burr, trying to figure out what to do with Angelica’s arm. Every now and then, parts of their voices would drift down. Alexander tried to ignore them, keeping his eyes trained on the slips of paper in his hand.

“I’m winning, you know,” Thomas said, putting down another makeshift card. 

The cards in Alexander’s hand fluttered as he sucked a breath in, looking at the piles of cards in front of him. They were flimsy and could be ripped apart easily, and the suits and the numbers had been scrawled on with the pen Alexander had stolen from the medbay on the hovercraft. 

“You wish, asshole,” Alexander replied, putting down one of his own cards.

The mutual agreement of ignoring what happened back in Colony 3 was still standing, evidently. Thomas didn’t say anything about it, and Alexander didn’t, either. Instead, they were sitting in the middle of the floor playing cards and throwing loose insults at each other every now and then because it seemed better than actually facing the problem.

Thomas put down another card. Alexander could see that his fingernails were caked with dirt. All of their fingernails were caked with dirt. Well, except Burr’s. Burr looked so above all of them. 

But that was just another way the Capitol worked.

Burr had found them all right outside the Capitol. Philip Schuyler’s message had gone through, which meant there was some chance he was alive. Alexander hoped that his Capitol connections would keep him afloat, because nobody deserved to lose anybody. Burr managed to sneak them in while asking one of the redcoats about their tea or something. Apparently this was something people normally talked about in the Capitol. Tea tasted like dirt, Alexander wasn’t sure how anyone could like it. He muttered this fact went sneaking in, and Jefferson had given him the death stare. 

As soon as they were alone, they immediately launched into an argument over whether tea or coffee was better. Burr groaned. Cosway called them a married couple. Lafayette snickered Alexander and Thomas shut up. 

That had been over an hour ago. Now they were trying to be quieter, trying to let Lafayette get his sleep. Both of them knew that sleeping was going to be way too hard for either of them, and decided to find something else to do. After the entire coffee-tea debate was over. (Because they’d both gotten in each other’s faces to the point where their breath was mixing, and it was too close to a different situation that neither of them wanted to talk about,) they settled for playing cards. 

Alexander was pretty sure that Thomas was introducing a new rule every card so that he would always win, but Alexander didn’t mind that much. It was just to pass the time, and Alexander was too focused on finding logical fallacies in the rules that Thomas was making up, because there was no way that this game was that complicated. 

“You’re making these rules up as you go,” Alexander said.

“You don’t have any proof of that,” Thomas retorted. 

Alexander sighed and went through all the rules in his head again, trying to find a discrepancy. His mind came up blank. He groaned.

Thomas put down a two. “A two means that I get to triple the number of points it the turn was originally worth,” he said, grinning.

“Didn’t you say that it took three points off last time?” Alexander asked.

“That was because it was preceded by a four,” Thomas said smugly.

Alexander groaned, suffering through five more turns before he put down the cards in his hand. “I’m going to teach you a game that actually makes sense and has consistent rules.”

Thomas chuckled, putting the cards down. “I have been entirely consistent.”

“A two can’t have that many different point values.”

“Sure it can,” Thomas responded.

“Okay fine. In this game, every card is worth what it says on the corner, and I don’t have to worry about a slightly attractive idiot changing the value to what he feels is appropriate at the second,” Alexander said. He did his best to shuffle the slips of paper, dealing them out again.

“Slightly attractive? You wound me,” Thomas said dramatically.

“ _Marginally_ attractive idiot,” Alexander corrected, holding up his cards. “Better?”

“Not really.”

“Deal with it, loser,” Alexander said, rolling his eyes.

“Pretty sure I won the last game.”

“Because you were cheating.”

“I was not,” Thomas said. “How do we play your game? It’s got to be pretty simple, considering that you like to play it.”

“Was that an insult?” Alexander asked.

Thomas just smirked at him, giving him the answer. Alexander rolled his eyes, explaining the game to him. For the next hour, they were dealing cards into the same rows and slapping the piles with the least cards. Alexander won in the end, thanks to experience, and he smirked back at Thomas, holding out his hand.

Thomas shook it. “I hate you.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual,” Alexander replied.

The problem was that Alexander couldn’t tell if they were joking or not.

Thomas let go of the handshake. 

Alexander shuffled the cards and piled them up again, leaving them under the bed so that they could play later. If they had a later. 

“How’s Laf?” Thomas asked.

“Holding up,” Alexander answered. 

There was silence for a second, an aching silence that begged to be filled. Alexander could think of a million things to say, but he didn’t have the courage to say any of them. He sighed, walking over to the corner of the room and getting blankets. They were softer than he expected, and Burr even had extra pillows. He threw a blanket and a pillow at Thomas lying down and wrapping a blanket around himself. He faced away from Thomas, snuggling into the blanket. 

It was nearly impossible to sleep. Alexander’s eyes were open, and he was watching Laf breathing evenly on top of the bed. He needed everything to slow down again. It all seemed to go too fast. He counted to five hundred and back in his head. He studied his fingers. He counted sheep. Nothing seemed to be working. Alexander let a sigh escape his lips. There was silence for another second, before he heard a soft voice.

“Are you mad at me?”

Thomas’ voice was small, a lot softer than what Alexander had been hearing almost the entire time. There was a slight waver in it, and Alexander could hear how much Thomas cared about the answer. 

Alexander turned to face him, and they looked at each other. He felt like he should be mad. He had every reason to be mad. Still, he wasn’t. There was a part of him that hated that fact, and another part of him that congratulated himself for the forgiveness. 

He didn’t say anything, electing to just shift closer. He held open his blanket for Thomas to join him under, and Thomas immediately did. Alexander could see a hint of a smile on his face, and his eyes glistened.

“Thank you,” Thomas whispered. Alexander nodded softly.

Thomas turned away from him, curling up, and Alexander gently wrapped his arm around Thomas’ waist, keeping him close. 

It was so much easier to sleep after that.

* * *

Thomas was already awake by the time Alexander woke up. He was sitting to Alexander’s side, eating something mushy-looking off a plate. Alexander let out a groan, and Thomas smiled, handing Alexander a plate. 

“It’s Capitol food,” he said. “Everyone thinks you’re awake, but I thought it would be better to let you sleep in. Said I’d bring you breakfast before we debrief.”

“Thanks,” Alexander murmured, forcing himself up. He looked down at the pile of mush in from of him, bleach white with- “are those sparkles?”

“Yeah, the Capitol likes to glam up their food. Didn’t you have it before the games?” Thomas asked. 

“Didn’t eat much before the games,” Alexander said, poking the food with his spoon. “What is this even made out of?”

“I have no idea,” Thomas said, shrugging. “It honestly doesn’t taste that bad. The sparkles taste like sugar.”

Alexander took a bite, grimacing at the texture. Thomas was right, it didn’t taste that bad. It was just a little hard to swallow. Thomas smiled as he saw Alexander eating. He held up Alexander’s notebook. “Found this.”

“And?” Alexander asked.

“You have really shitty ideas for government,” Thomas said. “Do you really think that instituting another monarchy-”

“It’s not a monarchy,” Alexander cut in. 

“It basically is. That’s way too much power to one person, and that’s what led to this mess,” Thomas said.

“What led to this mess was that people decided to revolt instead of peacefully attempting to pass new legislation. A strong government would keep a check on that,” Alexander argued.

“Oh yeah, by nuking Colony 13?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No! The fact that most of the colonies were left without government oversight is what led to everything. With proper oversight, colonies would be able to create change more easily, and we wouldn’t have to worry about a revolt in the first place. It’s still a government for the people, it’s just run by qualified officials instead of-”

“Instead of what, the people?” Thomas shot back. “The fact is that if we give a central government too much power, we’re not going to be able to tailor laws specific to each colony, since the governments within the colonies are-”

“Fine. Two levels of government. One for the nation and one for the colonies. How does that sound?” Alexander asked.

“Absolutely wonderful,” Thomas said.

“The federal government should have more power than the colonial governments,” Alexander said.

“Bullshit.”

“Honestly, I didn’t wake up just to be attacked for my opinions,” Alexander said, groaning. “But having a stronger federal government would make sure that we’re all united. In case you haven’t noticed, each of the colonies has to produce stuff for all the other colonies. If we can't trade within the nation easily, then all the colonies he are going to fail. Having a central power would help there. Not to mention that in several other categories, such as man-”

“Do you ever shut up?” Thomas asked. 

Alexander stuck up both his middle fingers, glaring at Thomas. It seemed like forever since he had done it, flipped someone off. It was a stupid and small thing, but it was such a big part of his personality and he had just realized how long it had been since he had done it. The scowl on his face turned into a smile, and he dropped his hands. He felt like himself, for once. 

“I was kidding, don't shut up, you're the smartest person I know,” Thomas said, chuckling softly. “Was nice to hear you rant, even if your opinions were all wrong.”

“Thanks, asshole,” Alexander said. 

“My pleasure, dipshit,” Thomas replied, smiling at Alexander. There was something in his eyes, and he seemed to hesitate. Alexander watched him closely, letting out a sigh. There still seemed to be a rift between them after everything that had happened. 

The look was gone after a few seconds, and Thomas stood up.

“I'm gonna get us some alcohol. We can't do anything until night, anyway, and I know where Burr keeps his stash.”

“Let me come with you,” Alexander said, taking Thomas’ hand and hoisting himself up. Thomas helped Alexander, kissing Alexander’s forehead. It lasted for a split second, before Thomas walked out of the room, stalking ahead of Alexander. 

Alexander rolled his eyes, following Thomas out. “You know, you're allowed to be affectionate.”

Thomas blushed. “More worried about the other thing.”

“What, the _I want to cuddle and braid your_ -”

“Yes. That,” Thomas said. 

“Look, we-”

“At least let me get a little alcohol into my system before we talk about this,” Thomas said. 

Alexander nodded, following Thomas up a set of stairs to the attic. It was dark, a small room with a few lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. It smelled nice, more like wood than alcohol. Alexander liked it. It felt cozy. 

There were a few shelves of different types of drinks. He picked up one of them, _Sam Adams_ engraved on the top of the glass bottle. The label was fading, and it seemed really really old. He held it up for Thomas, who gave him a thumbs up. Alexander walked to the back of the room, only to find Cosway and Angelica already occupying the area. Angelica was sitting on Cosway’s lap, one arm missing, softly kissing her. 

Alexander froze. 

“What the hell,” Thomas said, appearing behind Alexander. 

Cosway looked up, breaking away from Angelica. “Sup, losers? Laf should be here in a few, and we can start the party.”

Alexander chuckled nervously, and Angelica raised an eyebrow. “You can sit. We’re all drinking, anyway.”

Alexander sat down on the floor, trying to open the cap of his bottle and failing. He handed it to Thomas, who popped it open for him. Thomas took a gulp before handing it back to Alexander, opening his own bottle as well. 

Alexander took a drink, relaxing at the usual feeling of the alcohol down his throat. 

“How long has you two been going on?” Thomas asked. 

“Well, suicide mission in the Capitol’s the next step, right? Might as well make the most of it,” Angelica said, shrugging and cuddling into Cosway. 

Cosway smiled at Angelica, holding her closer. They were sharing their own beer, _the Federalist_ written against the label. “You two work your shit out yet?”

“Nope,” Thomas said, tilting his bottle towards Alexander. “To not solving our shit.”

Alexander clinked his bottle with Thomas’, and they both took a drink. They both chuckled, looking at each other for a second. Thomas tucked Alexander into his side, and Alexander relaxed into the hold. 

“I can not believe you guys started without me,” Laf said. He picked up a random wine bottle, plopping down next to the rest of them. He used his teeth to pry off the cork, taking a swig. “Burr is getting a prosthetic arm from wherever.”

“I can't wait,” Angelica said, taking another sip from the beer bottle. “Fuck losing an arm.”

“Fuck losing everything we lost,” Laf said. He held up his bottle. “I propose a toast to Ben.”

Alexander nodded, raising his own bottle, and everyone followed. They all took a sip, Angelica and Cosway still sharing their bottle. 

“Fuck it. I propose one to Jemmy,” Thomas said, holding up his bottle. “I miss him.”

Everyone toasted to James Madison, drinking again. 

“One to John,” Alexander said softly, tipping his bottle towards the center of the group before taking a large gulp. Everyone else followed suit, each taking their own little sips. 

“To Herc,” Laf said. 

Another round of drinks. 

“Thomas Paine is dead,” Cosway said softly. “I didn't know him, but Mercy treated him like her father.”

“He's dead?” Alexander asked.

“Burr told us this morning. He was found at the outskirts of the Capitol, soaked in blood,” Cosway said. “They made him an example.”

Alexander sighed. Paine had been like a father to John too. 

“To Paine,” Alexander said. Everyone took their own drink. 

There was a moment of silence, everyone unsure of what to say. 

“And… to Mercy,” Cosway said. Her hand was shaking a bit, and Alexander could tell that she was hesitating. 

“Mercy?” Alexander asked. “Mercy’s not-”

“I lied to you,” Cosway murmured. “She didn't stay in Colony 3, she got shot. She didn't make it out.”

Alexander closed his eyes. It wasn't fair. It really wasn't fair. Thomas gently tightened his grip, holding Alexander closer. 

“To Mercy,” Thomas said.

There was silence as everyone drank. Alexander sniffled softly, putting down his bottle, and burying his face into Thomas’ side. Thomas gently took Alexander’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

There was silence for a little bit. 

“Hamilton, I'm so sor-”

“It's okay,” Alexander whispered.

There was silence. 

“Fuck. It's not okay,” Alexander said. “But it's also not your fault.”

Thomas held Alexander like he was fragile, like Alexander was about to break, and Alexander was just so close to that edge. 

“You know what? Fuck the Capitol. Fuck everything they’ve done and everything they stand for. It's idiotic that they ask kids to kill each other. It's sadistic that they get pleasure from watching us break apart in that goddamned arena,” Alexander spat. He shifted away from Thomas, sitting himself upright. “Fuck King George for cheering on the entire thing. Fuck the Capitol for not giving a shit about everyone else. It's not fair. It'll never be fair. The fact that not everyone is against this system just shows how little people care when they’re not the ones being oppressed.

“It's not fair that we’ve all been put through this, to the point where we’re not even the same people anymore. It's repugnant, and I hate the Capitol for every bit of it. However, every single one of us here has gotten through immense suffering. We’ve gotten through _the games_. We’re here because we’re the survivors. The cockroaches that the Capitol just _can’t_ kill. And we’re going to give them hell, because every _single_ person out there is capable of giving them hell too. The Capitol only operates the way it does because they have the illusion of power. Guess what? We’re the proof that they don't have any power. If the Capitol can't hold its own against a bunch of teenagers, then how the fuck are they going to take on all the colonies?

“Every single one of you here has been through a lot. Every single one of you here has struggled through something that was hard to deal with, and you survived. You're stronger than you think. Just because other people can't see your internal struggles, doesn't mean you shouldn't get credit for getting through them. You’re survivors. Every single one of you.”

Alexander stood up, everyone looking up at him. 

“Guess what? We’re going to go in, and we’re going to _tear them up._ Even if we all fall, the Capitol’s not going to be able to have the illusion of power anymore. They won't have anything. They’re going down.”

There was silence for a few seconds, before Laf started clapping. Thomas joined in a second later, and Cosway followed. Angelica hit the floor with her hand, giving him a shrug. Alexander smiled.

Alexander picked up his bottle, holding it up. “To us.”

“To us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "every single one of you" paragraph is dedicated to every single one of you. You're amazing and strong and wonderful and I know you're going to do great <3 
> 
> Whatever's bothering you doesn't even know what's coming. 
> 
> Breathe. You got this. 
> 
> To you.


	32. Jefferson Began Getting Migraines After he was Rejected by a Girl he Liked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this and I was so unsatisfied that I rewrote the entire thing
> 
> many gems were lost
> 
> Dhakajdkifnshhmakeoutsceneshlwajksidof

“That was fucking amazing,” Thomas whispered, smiling at Alexander. He paused for a second, letting out a giggle. “Darling.”

“Glad to see you're back to your stupid-as-fuck nicknames,” Alexander replied. 

“Glad you appreciate the nicknames,” Thomas said.

“I still haven't figured you two out,” Angelica said, chuckling. Her voice was beginning to slur together. 

Cosway’s cheeks were already rosy, and it was obvious that people were getting drunk. Cosway tittered before letting out a hiccup. “Okay, no more alcohol.”

Laf rolled his eyes, taking another gulp of his wine. “You guys are lightweights.”

“Not everyone drinks wine on a daily basis,” Angelica said, leaning against Cosway. “Maybe drinking in the Capitol while we’re wanted was a really bad idea.”

“We’re kids, nobody expects us to have good ideas. It's Burr’s fault for leaving the cellar open in the first place,” Cosway said. 

“Yeah, I'm blaming this on Burr,” Laf said, chuckling. 

“Yup, Burr.”

“This was all Burr.”

They all chuckled again. Cosway drank the rest of their bottle, setting it down and picking Angelica up, bridal style. “Okay losers, I'm going to go hang out with my _girlfriend_ while I still have the time.”

“I'm missing an arm, not a leg. I can still walk, Mar,” Angelica said, hooking her arm behind Cosway’s neck to hold herself up. 

“I'm fully aware of that, but this is more fun,” Cosway said. She carried Angelica to the stairs before putting her back down. “Okay, never mind. I'm not carrying you down stairs while I'm half drunk.”

Angelica chuckled. “Only half?”

They both disappeared through the door, leaving Alexander, Laf, and Thomas behind. Alexander looked towards Laf, giving him a soft gaze. “How are you doing?”

“Not too bad,” Laf said. He smiled back at Alexander, actually looking happy. It seemed to be impossible after everything that happened, but it was nice to see. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Alexander said. “I love you.”

“Glad we have that in common,” Laf said, grinning at Alexander. 

Alexander chuckled, and Thomas looked between them.

“Wait, glad that you love each other or glad that you love yourself too?” Thomas asked. 

“The second one,” Laf joked. “But in all seriousness, I love you too, Alexander.”

He leaned in to press a kiss to Alexander’s temple, stopping by Alexander’s ear. “By the way, we gossip about you, and all of us want you and Thomas to sort out your shit,” he whispered, winking.

Alexander blushed.

Laf cupped Alexander’s cheeks and pressed a kiss to Alexander’s forehead. “For luck.”

He gave Alexander a quick salute before disappearing down the steps as well. Alexander chuckled, rolling his eyes. Laf seemed to be back. Alexander looked at Thomas, taking another sip of his beer. 

Thomas looked back at Alexander, studying his face carefully. They didn't say anything for a little bit, just staring at each other, taking sips every now and then. Thomas put down his bottle, sliding it a little away from them. 

“I’ve been pretending to drink almost the entire time. I seem to have picked the worst tasting beer ever,” Thomas said, letting out a nervous chuckle.

Alexander chuckled, putting down his bottle as well. “Enough alcohol in your system yet?” he asked, referencing their earlier conversation. Time to sort out their shit.

Thomas chuckled. “I guess.”

The entire conversation seemed to be comprised of nervous chuckles.

There was a pause, and Alexander shifted uneasily, waiting for something to happen. How do people normally sort out shit?

“Could I have your bottle as well?” Alexander asked.

“Nope,” Thomas said. “Say no to drugs and alcohol.”

Another nervous chuckle.

“Honestly, the alcohol doesn't even seem to be affecting you,” Thomas pointed out.

“Higher tolerance. Happens when you're friends with John,” Alexander said, smiling a little. “He used to steal beer a lot, and then he'd crawl through my window and pull me away from my writing, and we’d drink together.”

Alexander smiled. It had been just them for hours. John would read Alexander’s writing, talk about plans for the future, and Alexander felt like he was floating for a little, and nothing else really mattered. It was nice to talk about John. He’d been touchy about the subject for so long, but John was an important part of his life, and he didn’t want John to be forgotten.

The person who had painted the mural didn’t want that either.

Alexander thought back to the building with the mural on it. The image was starting to get blurry, but he could remember that most of the wall had been painted over, layers of graffiti under the plain paint. Whoever it was hadn’t painted over Laurens. 

There were several people who didn’t want him forgotten. 

Thomas sighed. “He didn't deserve to die. I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault. I know I said that it was, but I was emotional and really needed a way to get out my anger. So um, I'm sorry. Thanks for saving my life,” Alexander said. 

“It's okay. I mean, I still haven't forgiven Laf, but we barely talk, so the topic is just ignored. It's not like it was his fault in the first place. I just need someone to be mad at, you know?”

“Choose the Capitol. Choose King George. Laf doesn't deserve that anger,” Alexander murmured, voice calm. He understood why Thomas felt the way he did.

“What’s the deal with you and Laf?”

“The deal?”

“He said he loved you, kissed your forehead, whispered something in your ear that made you blush, and then winked and left. I'm not saying-”

“Ugh no, he thinks of me as his younger brother,” Alexander said, chuckling.

“And you?” Thomas asked, hesitating a little. 

“Fuck off,” Alexander said, chuckling. “He said that the others were gossiping about us.”

“Oh, um…” Thomas said, flushing hard. 

“You never told me about James,” Alexander said, changing the topic. 

“Jemmy and I weren't that close. Not as close as you and John, at least,” Thomas said. “We never really talked much before the games. He was creepy. I expected him to kill me in my sleep half of the time.”

Alexander chuckled, before stopping suddenly. “Wait, were you trying to be funny? Because-”

“Don't worry about it. Anyway, he was really the only person who listened to me once we were in the games, so that was nice. We'd gossip a bit about tributes,” Thomas explained, chuckling a little. “Told him you're beautiful and he told me to shut the fuck up and stop crushing on the dead ones. That was a highlight.”

Alexander blushed a bit, staying silent and letting Thomas continue. 

“I think I told you about the entire trying-not-to-kill people thing. Jem thought it was bullshit, but he did his best to make sure I wouldn't have to kill anyone, but he killed him, so you know, didn't really help anyone,” Thomas said, shrugging. 

“You saved me. Twice,” Alexander said. 

“Cause I had a huge crush on you,” Thomas said. 

“Don't crush on the dead ones,” Alexander said, chuckling a little. His death felt almost certain at this point, but he was pushing through.

Thomas smiled. “Nah, I'm rooting for you. The Capitol doesn't even know what's coming.”

Alexander blushed. They smiled at each other for a few seconds, not doing anything until Thomas gently leaned in halfway. Alexander froze, feeling Thomas’ heavy breathing against his skin. He wasn't supposed to do this. This is exactly what he had been doing with John right before everything went to shit. He felt Thomas lean in again, and pulled away. 

Thomas stopped, opening his eyes and searching Alexander’s face for something. 

“We can't do this,” Alexander whispered. 

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked. 

“What you said back there? At Colony 3?”

“I was trying to scare you, Alexander, I thought I was going to lose you and I made a bad decision and I’d never try to do anything to-”

“No, not that. I'm sorry too, I pinned too much on you,” Alexander said softly. “And I left you behind, I'm sorry about that too.”

“It's okay,” Thomas promised. “That's behind us. It's the Capitol’s fault anyway, right?”

“You can't blame everything on them,” Alexander whispered. 

“I thought you weren't mad,” Thomas said. 

“I'm not,” Alexander said. “I forgive you. We were both being shitty.”

“I don't get it. Why can't I kiss you?” Thomas asked, his voice getting faster. 

“It's the other thing. You said you wanted to be with me. To be mine. Wanted to cuddle and braid my hair-”

“I still do. I love you, Alexander,” Thomas said, anxiety creeping into his voice. “What am I doing wrong?”

“That's the exact thing. We’re on the brink of a war. We can't cuddle and braid each other’s hair, because we’re literally moment away from destruction. We can't be focusing on a relationship right now, Thomas,” Alexander said, meeting Thomas’ eyes. 

Thomas looked away, blinking to make sure the tears didn't fall. Alexander sighed, shifting away from him. He stood up, deciding to give Thomas his space. 

“I… I'll be in our room, yeah?”

There wasn't a reply, and Thomas was curled into himself, his head in his knees. Alexander just sighed, turning and leaving Thomas alone. 

He went back behind the bookcase and down the stairs to their room, shutting the door and sinking down with a sigh. Maybe he should've stayed with Thomas. No, it would be worse if Thomas had to keep looking at him after everything that had happened. Alexander groaned, rubbing his temples. 

Stupid relationship drama on top of it all. 

“Guessing you guys did the opposite of work out your shit. I owe Angelica ten dollars,” Laf said, looking at Alexander from the bed. 

Alexander glared at him. 

“Sorry, wrong thing to say,” Laf noted. He opened his arms for Alexander, and Alexander sighed and walked over to let Laf hold him for a little bit. 

Laf hugged Alexander tightly, kissing his forehead. Alexander stayed in Lafayette’s arms for a while, letting himself calm down. It took a while before he spoke again.

“In case you were wondering, we did work out our shit,” Alexander said. “But I think we added more shit that needs to be worked out.”

“Do you love him?” Lafayette asked softly. 

“Obviously. I just don't want to start dating him the day before one of us blows up, you know?” Alexander asked softly. 

Lafayette hummed thoughtfully. “It is not really just about Thomas, is it?”

Alexander sighed, shaking his head. It wasn't just Thomas. 

Lafayette gave him a gentle squeeze. “Take as long as you need.”

“I don't think I ever got to say ‘thank you’,” Alexander whispered. “You've done so much for me.”

“You are very welcome,” Laf said, smiling. 

Alexander stayed in Laf’s arms for a little longer, before letting go and using Laf’s help to transcribe the speech to the best of their memories, adding little edits along the way. One more pamphlet wouldn't hurt. 

Well, it would, especially at a time like this. It would hurt the Capitol, not them. Writing kept his mind off of everything, and by the time Burr was back, Alexander had a new pamphlet ready for distribution. 

The main floor of Burr’s house was plain. There were random pieces of Capitol paraphernalia lying around, and there was almost no dust anywhere. There was nothing that showed the house belonged to Burr, since everything seemed to be so generic. No records, no photos, no receipts. It looked like someone was just staying in the house instead of living in it. 

Angelica was sitting on a table, using her arm to prop herself up. 

Burr was tending to Angelica’s shoulder, unwrapping the bandages and testing the new arm’s size. His face was twisted into a scowl that never seemed to change. He said something about having to wait to sedate Angelica.

“Alcohol?” he asked. 

“I could do it without sedation,” Angelica said. 

“Doubt it, since I need to implant something behind your ear and that's going to _hurt_. We can't have you passing out,” Burr replied. 

“I've been through the games.”

“And you don't need any more unnecessary pain,” Burr said. He picked out a bottle of pills from the cabinet, handing it to her. “Take one. It'll get the alcohol out of your system faster.”

Seeing Burr without the makeup was… different. His face was soft and looked tired, and his eyes didn't seem to be as alive as they were when they were surrounded by red and gold. 

Alexander walked over and asked Burr if he had a postage service. Burr gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. Alexander handed him the pamphlet, letting Burr read through the writing. 

“We can get all the colonies to revolt!” 

“No,” Burr said, handing the notebook back to Alexander. 

“What?” Alexander asked. 

“We don't want a way for anyone to trace us back here. No,” Burr said. “I'll print it if you die. Nice writing to be your last words, right?”

Alexander couldn't tell if it was a joke or not. Burr’s scowl was still on his face. Alexander looked to Angelica for help, and she just shrugged. 

“Could you give a pill to Mar?” Angelica asked, throwing Alexander the bottle. It flew in the wrong direction, but Alexander managed to catch it, giving Angelica a nod.

“Sorry, still a little drunk,” she said, chuckling. She held out her hand. “Let me see.”

Alexander walked over to her and handed her the notebook, reading through it and smiling. 

“Sorry for everything,” Angelica said softly. “I was kind of a dick back in 13, and I'm glad that you came along.”

“You weren't that bad,” Alexander said, letting out a chuckle. 

“Thanks,” Angelica said, handing the notebook back to Alexander. “Thanks for a lot more, too.”

“We’re going to get your sister back,” Alexander said. He held his hand out. “Truce?”

“Truce,” she said, setting the notebook on her lap and shaking it. “I'll see you around, Hamilton.”

“Schuyler.”

“Mar’s giving Thomas relationship advice, so I suggest you butt in as soon as possible,” Angelica said. 

Alexander chuckled nervously. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough. I don't agree with your decision, but I can understand why you made it,” Angelica said, pausing for a second. “I’m guessing that you’re scared of loving him because you might lose him.”

Her voice was quiet, and she looked at Alexander with eyes that told him that she had seen it before. Alexander nodded softly, and she continued. 

“Well, I thought I lost my sister, and honestly, I regretted not being able to save her more than anything. Another thing that I regretted? Not telling her how much I loved her, one last time,” Angelica admitted. “And I'm sure as hell going to tell her as soon as I see her again.”

Alexander’s face softened.

“The last thing she asked me to do was to tell you she loves you,” Alexander said.

There was a moment of silence. 

Angelica smiled, leaning back a little bit. “You don't want to regret not being able to tell Thomas. Being afraid to love doesn't mean you stop loving.”

“I'll keep that in mind, Angelica,” Alexander said, picking up his notebook again. 

He turned to see Burr staring at the two of them. Alexander gave him as much of a smile as possible, but Burr’s face remained like stone.

“Are you going to give me relationship advice too?” Alexander asked, half joking. 

Burr’s face didn’t change. Alexander gave him a nervous smile. It took a few seconds for Burr to speak.

“I'm going to try not to partake in teenage drama,” Burr said. “Take a bath, get painted up, we’re breaking in after Miss Schuyler’s arm is back on. Bathroom’s upstairs, last door in the hallway. Spare clothes in the room on the right from the bathroom.”

Alexander gave Burr the Capitol salute, mostly mockingly, and nodded to Angelica. He walked upstairs, letting himself into the shower and relaxing under the hot water streaming down his back. The dirt finally was getting washed away. He worked through his matted hair, untangling it and using a considerable amount of Burr’s shampoo to get all the dirt out. 

Burr didn't even have hair, he wouldn't mind.

Alexander got out, wrapping a soft as fuck towel around him and walking to the room on the right, like Burr told him. He tried to find a set of clothes that it would be easy to move hide his knifes and move in. Most of the clothes were too big anyway, but all of them felt more comfortable than anything he had ever been in. He finally settled on a green suit and jacket that hung off his shoulders a little. He put on undershirt and pants, before running down to the basement again. The stairs creaked slightly, the boards shifting a little beneath him. The entire basement was designed to be hidden, the entryway to the stairs behind a bookcase that needed to be swung open. 

The basement had two rooms total: one was being occupied by Laf, Thomas, and him, and the other housed Angelica and Cosway. Alexander went to his room and strapped the knives around his chest again, putting the second belt around his waist. He put the jacket on top, and tested how easy it was to reach for the weapons. If he needed to, he could always take off the jacket before combat. He smiled, the clothes giving him some sort of extra confidence.

Alexander opened the door to Cosway’s room, waving a little at Thomas and Cosway. 

They were sitting on the floor, Cosway right in front of Thomas. There was a shimmering dark blue ribbon laced through both of her braids, almost impossible to see against her dark hair, and her hair was back to being neat instead of the frizzy mess it had been for the last few days. She waved back at Alexander. Thomas was facing away from him, but Alexander could see that Cosway was working on Thomas’ face with a large set of makeup. 

Alexander hesitated for a second before going in and sitting down next to Cosway. Thomas had various colors dancing across his face. Cosway seemed to be using a purple and gold color scheme. There were large wings at the corner of his eyes, each one having a gold one curving up and a black one that extended straight out. His eyelids were covered in a purple to-gold gradient, glittering as he opened his eyes to look at Alexander. They seemed to be more intense, framed by the colors surrounding them. 

Thomas looked away after barely a second, focusing back on Cosway.

“Angelica asked me to give one of these to you,” Alexander said, tipping a pill out of the bottle. He handed it to Cosway. “Supposed to lessen the effects of the alcohol.”

She took the pill, dry swallowing it. “Thanks. How does he look?”

Alexander studied Thomas’ face, blushing a little bit. “He's beautiful.” _Change the subject_ “Didn't know you were good at makeup.”

“I'm good at art, and makeup isn't that far off. Took a while to get a hang of it, but Thomas was a willing partner,” Cosway said, smiling at Thomas. 

“Didn't know you liked art,” Alexander said. 

“You never asked.” There was a slight tension underneath the words, and Alexander bit his lip.

“Well, it turned out really nice,” Alexander said.

“Thanks. Had a nice canvas in the first place,” Cosway said. “Right?”

“Yeah, real nice,” Alexander said. 

“I mean, I didn't have to do so much, but it's nice to _have fun before_ everything happens,” Cosway said. There was something laced underneath the words. Thomas looked uneasy.

There was silence for a few moments. 

“I owe Angelica ten bucks,” Cosway said. 

“Not you too.”

“Okay, no offense, but seriously?” Cosway asked. “I know you're a smart person, but almost every decision you make seems to contradict that.”

Thomas looked uneasy. “Maria, it’s-”

“No, it's not fine. Maybe you think a relationship is going to ruin the mission, but honestly putting yourselves into this much agony is just going to be worse,” Cosway said, fixing Alexander with a glare. 

“I really can't deal with this right now,” Alexander said, beginning to push himself up. 

Thomas grabbed his hand. “Stay, please?”

Alexander nodded and sat down again, Maria scowling at him. 

“It's okay if you're not ready for a relationship,” Thomas said, squeezing Alexander’s hand softly. “And I'm not going to do anything unless you're one hundred percent comfortable with it.”

Alexander smiled. “Thank you.”

“Can I braid your hair?” Thomas asked.

“Of course,” Alexander said, moving to sit down right in front of Thomas, facing away from him so that Thomas could work on his hair. 

Cosway reached over and handed Thomas a box full of ribbons. “I overstepped.”

“You're forgiven,” Thomas said, nodding at Cosway. 

He picked up a comb and ran it through Alexander’s damp hair. The movement calmed Alexander down, and he let his eyes slip shut as Thomas began to separate his hair into strands. 

It was nice, knowing that Thomas was there for him.

“Let Angelica know that she owes you a ten. Our shit’s been sorted out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's depressing to write fluff when you know there's angst coming up,,,,
> 
> platonicrelationshipsareamazing


	33. Happy Birthday Lafayette! Lafayette Kissed Washington and it was the Coolest Thing Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “At this moment we saw the Marquis, riding in full speed from the town, and, as he approached General Washington, threw his bridle on his horse’s neck, opened both his arms as wide as he could reach, and caught the General round his body, hugged him as close as it was possible, and absolutely kissed him from ear to ear once or twice as well as I can recollect with as much ardour as ever an absent lover kissed his mistress on his return.”
> 
> mhmmmm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yiiikes i'm back
> 
> sorry for the delay. school is stressful af
> 
> also please don't read this if this gives you panic attacks. pleeeeease. 
> 
> TW for explosions, blood, violence, death

Thomas finished up with Alexander’s hair, weaving green and silver ribbons through the braid. He gave Alexander a quick kiss on the bridge of Alexander's nose, which caused Alexander to giggle. Alexander gave Thomas a quick kiss to his jaw. 

Cosway was grinning at Thomas, wiggling her eyebrows. Thomas stuck his tongue out, and Alexander chuckled, leaning back into him.

“Okay, I'm going to do your makeup,” she said. 

Alexander nodded, sliding forward a bit so that Cosway could access his face.

She pulled out a few of the tubes of cream and started to spread them across Alexander’s face. “Hamilton, I never-”

“Hamilton?” Thomas asked. 

“Yeah?” Alexander asked. 

“I was talking to her. Why do you call him ‘Hamilton?’” Thomas asked. 

“Well, he calls me Cosway,” she replied, shrugging. She started to apply something with a brush on Alexander’s cheeks. It tickled, and Alexander found himself giggling a little. 

Thomas made a frustrated noise. “You guys are literally my two best friends, how the fuck aren't you on a first name basis?”

Alexander hadn't known that Cosway and Thomas were close, but he had missed a lot at Colony 13. He chuckled. “Fine, let’s get on a first name basis then.”

“Yes. Alexander, this is Maria,” Thomas said. 

“Hi Maria,” Alexander said, dragging his voice playfully.

“And Maria, this is Alexander,” Thomas continued. 

“‘Sup, Alex?” Maria said, brushing over Alexander’s nose, causing him to scrunch it up. 

“Shake hands,” Thomas commanded. 

Maria rolled her eyes, holding out her hand for Alexander. Alexander shook it. 

“Happy, dad?” Maria asked. 

“Very,” Thomas said. 

Alexander chuckled. “You're cute.”

“You can't see him right now but he's blushing really hard,” Maria said, grinning. “I can see it through his makeup.”

“Shut up,” Thomas said. 

Maria rolled her eyes, getting out some of the colors and beginning to dab the green and silver onto Alexander’s face, so that the makeup matched the ribbons. She and Thomas began to talk a little, and Alexander let himself float, getting brought back to reality every now and then with a squeeze to his arm from Thomas.

Maria took care of his eyes and lips, finishing up and handing a mirror to Alexander. He studied his features. It was all a beautiful blend of green and silver now, and the entire thing glittered. It was uncomfortable. 

He looked like part of the Capitol. 

He hated it. 

“I love it,” he said, smiling at Maria. 

“Should I hit on you for Thomas now?” Maria asked. 

Alexander chuckled. Maria had been hitting on Thomas for him a few minutes earlier, with the entire _nice canvas_ comment. 

“I'm perfectly capable of hitting on him myself,” Thomas said. “Hey, Alexander, are you from Tennessee?”

“What the fuck is a Tennessee?”

“This is great,” Maria said, chuckling. 

The door opened, and Laf walked in, dressed in an elaborate layered skirt and heels. His hair was out of his usual bun, and it stuck out a little bit. He looked down at the dress. “This is okay, right? I thought it looked cool, and-”

“It's amazing, Laf,” Maria said. Thomas gave Laf a thumbs up. 

Laf grinned, the smile reaching his eyes. He gave everyone a twirl. “I have always wanted to wear one of these.”

“You should probably ditch the heels so that you can run if you need to,” Alexander suggested. “You look great.”

Laf nodded, stepping out of the heels and grinning. There was a soft blush on his face. 

“How's Ange?” Maria asked. 

“Well, the arm does not fit exactly,” Laf said. “It will work, but it is probably best to stay away from any fighting until she gets a better replacement. She is still out, but you can talk to her when she is up again.”

The plan was for Maria, Laf, and Angelica to attack from the outside, while Thomas, Burr, and Alexander snuck in from the inside. Maria, Laf, and Angelica had the best aim, and it would help to have snipers set up around the area so that they could take out anyone in the way. As soon as the inside team was in, the team on the outside would get to the back of the palace and break into the hangar so that they’d have a getaway vehicle. 

The rally was going to be held in the courtyard of the Capitol palace, and Burr would be able to sneak Thomas and Alexander in. They were each supposed to get a person: Alexander would be getting Eliza, Thomas would have Washington, and Burr would get Theodosia. They didn't know exactly what states the hostages would be in, so they were just hoping for the best. 

Alexander and Thomas had looked at the map for a while, just a fallback in case they lost Burr. Burr had snatched them each a card. 

“Scan it in front of the display, you can open the door,” Burr said.

The way out would be through the back of the castle, where Maria, Angelica, and Laf could help them into a Capitol hovercraft. If anything happened to the people on the inside, the people on the outside needed to leave. It was better to keep as many of them alive as possible, just in case. 

Burr would be able to walk Alexander and Thomas through pretty easily. He knew the way around, having worked there for a while, and he was able to blend in easily. 

Nobody protested the plan. It was last minute and pretty bad, but the rally happening today made sure that most of the redcoats would be out of the building and not in it. Alexander thought it was stupid to be having a rally in the first place, but the Capitol wanted to show that it could “rise above discord” or something. Alexander could not wait to tear them up. 

“And no unnecessary violence, we don't want people after us,” Burr said, walking in during Laf’s explanation. “Miss Schuyler is awake.”

Maria got up, grinning as she ran to the door. “Well I'm leaving losers, bye!”

Burr stared at her for a second, but didn't say anything. Maria must've taken that as permission, because she ran out of the room and her footsteps disappeared up the steps. 

Thomas chuckled.

“We need to lay low. Don't let anyone know you’re there. Don't shoot unless absolutely necessary. Stick to the plan,” Burr listed. 

“Be boring,” Alexander interjected.

Burr’s gaze shifted over to Alexander, raising an eyebrow. He didn't say or do anything other than the small action, but Burr’s eyes bored into Alexander, and he shut up.

“What Mister Hamilton was trying to say is ‘don't be an idiot.’ Understood?”

Everyone nodded. 

“We leave in an hour.”

Burr left the room, and it took a few seconds for someone to break the silence. Laf reached over for the makeup, getting a mirror and beginning to apply it to his face. 

Alexander looked at Thomas.

Thomas chuckled. “You're a smartass.”

“I've always been a smartass,” Alexander answered, chuckling. 

Thomas’ face softened. “Overconfidence is going to kill you, darling,” he murmured, gently pulling Alexander back onto his lap.

“We’ve just lost so much,” Alexander replied. “We shouldn't be allowed to lose anymore.”

“I understand,” Thomas hummed softly. “But just don’t get yourself killed, okay?”

_“But could you stay alive? For me?” John asked._

_“Go to sleep, John.”_

Alexander looked up at Thomas. They could both make it through this. It wouldn't be just one of them. 

It never had to be just one of them. 

John. 

_“You need to try.”_

_“No.”_

_“Promise me you’ll at least try. Please.”_

_“I don’t want to.”_

“Only if you promise the same,” Alexander said softly. 

_“I’ll survive as long as I don’t have to kill anyone. Except maybe Jefferson, he’s a pompous dick.”_

_“Thank you.”_

“I promise,” Thomas said. 

“Then I do too,” Alexander replied, studying Thomas’ face for a little. He wanted to remember this, how beautiful Thomas looked, without worrying about anything else. The makeup dancing across his features, the smile on his lips, every little thing that Alexander loved about him. Thomas was staring back at him, his eyes flickering around Alexander’s face. 

“I feel very intrusive right now,” Laf said. 

Alexander chuckled, walking over to Laf and hugging him tightly. “Stay safe.”

“I will. Thank you for everything,” Laf said. 

“Why are you thanking me? You've done so much more. Thank you so much,” Alexander said. 

Laf smiled, kissing Alexander’s forehead. Alexander smiled up at him, memorizing Laf’s face too. It was beautiful, rougher than Thomas’, but still beautiful. 

“Nice job on the makeup,” Alexander said. 

“Merci.”

Alexander was green, Thomas was purple, and Laf was a deep blue. It suited him. 

“Could you help with my hair?” he asked, handing Alexander a hair tie. Alexander nodded, pulling Laf’s hair into its usual puff and wrapping the hair tie around it. He covered it up with a blue ribbon.

He gave Laf a kiss on the cheek, and Maria burst in, pulling Angelica behind her. “Scram, punks. I'm gonna do my girlfriend’s makeup, and we’re going to be disgustingly sappy the entire time.”

Angelica chuckled, blushing. “ _She's_ going to be sappy the entire time.”

Alexander checked out Angelica’s arm. It was metallic, and it seemed to hand from her side, moving only slightly when she talked. It had almost no decoration, but it was still beautiful. 

Thomas chuckled, standing up. “I'll leave you two be. You're doing alright, Angelica?”

“Quite fine, thank you,” Angelica replied, a mocking Capitol accent on her lips. Alexander smiled. 

Laf and Alexander followed Thomas out the door, climbing up the stairs and sitting down back in Burr’s kitchen. Alexander waited approximately ten seconds before beginning to look through Burr’s drawers. 

If Ben were here, he'd probably help. 

Mercy would probably be cheering them on, being an amazing chaperone. 

John would shake his head and watch Alexander with a smile on his face, running over as soon as Alexander called him. 

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for stuff,” Alexander replied.

“I see.” 

There was silence for a little, Thomas and Laf just staring at each other, and then at Alexander, and then back at each other, nobody saying anything. 

“What are you doing?” Burr asked.

Hamilton looked up to see him. “Um.”

“Great answer. Learn about privacy,” Burr said.

Alexander nodded, closing the cupboard and sitting back down next to Laf. Nobody said anything for a while, and Alexander itched to write, but he was too scared to move because of Burr. Burr had left a while earlier, but Burr was creepy, and his presence seemed to linger in the room anyway. 

Maria came upstairs after a little, pulling Angelica behind her. Angelica was dressed in light pink, and Maria had taken a darker pink. They both looked as beautiful as everyone else. Angelica’s metallic arm was covered in a bunch of pink and gold ribbons to match the rest of her outfit. They sat down at the table too, starting up a quiet conversation and breaking up the tension a little. 

Everyone seemed a little too calm. They were about to charge into the Capitol, but everyone was just still. 

Maybe it was the familiarity of the entire situation that was haunting. Maybe it was just the determination that shone in everyone’s eyes. Maybe it was the fact that the end seemed so close, and it felt like doing anything would jinx their odds of winning. 

“Happy Hunger Games,” Alexander murmured. 

“And may the odds be ever in our favor,” Angelica finished. 

They rode a train to the main castle. Nobody spoke the entire time, just hoping to blend into everyone else. Thomas laced his fingers through Alexander’s at one point, and Alexander shifted closer. 

Laf, Maria, and Angelica split from Burr, Thomas and Alexander, finding positions around the perimeter where they could easily fire from. Burr led Thomas and Alexander to the main courtyard. 

Thomas looked terrified, his eyes scanning over the large crowd. Alexander shifted closer, lacing his fingers through Thomas’. Being around people was probably messing with him, especially when it was the very people who had been watching him the entire time in the arena, for fun. Alexander kissed Thomas’ arm, hoping to calm him down a little.

“I’m right here,” Alexander whispered.

King George strut out onto the stage, waving at the people watching. _The man who had killed John_ strut out onto the stage, waving like nothing had happened. As if he wasn’t responsible for the death of so many. Alexander clenched his jaw, squeezing Thomas’ hand harder. Thomas ran his thumb over the back of Alexander’s knuckles, calming him down a little. 

King George was followed by a group of redcoats, protecting him from any damage. Alexander considered just rushing forward and throwing a knife right through a few of the guards. King George deserved to die.

“We’re not here for him,” Thomas murmured.

“I know,” Alexander whispered back, his eyes still trained on King George. “Still hate him.”

“Would you two shut up?” Burr snapped. “And smile.”

Alexander flipped Burr off, but shut his mouth, scowling Thomas kicked Alexander’s ankle, and the scowl turned into an obviously fake smile. Thomas chuckled, gently kissing Alexander’s temple.

“Maybe stop being a smartass for twenty minutes. That would be enough,” Thomas whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“The bar is so high.”

“I love you, darling, but someone could literally put the bar on the ground and you’d dig a series of tunnels to get underneath that bar too,” Thomas replied.

“Would you stop bickering?” Burr whispered.

“This isn’t bickering, it’s pleasant conversation,” Alexander said. “Something you should really learn about.”

Burr glared at Alexander, and Alexander smiled back sweetly. 

“At least you’re smiling now.”

That was the last thing Alexander heard before the sudden explosion behind them. The ground shook, and there was dust clouding the sky. Murmurs erupted around them, failing to cover the screams from the site of the explosion. 

Everyone was running, and people bumped into each other in an effort to get out. Thomas tightened his grip on Alexander’s hand, beginning to run through the crowd. The smell of ash finally reached Alexander’s nose, burning up on the inside.

Alexander’s eyes were trained on King George, who was just smiling at the explosion as if it were nothing. The splotch of red was led away from the crowd, away from everyone outside. The doors to the palace opened, and everyone began to flood in. 

Alexander’s legs were barely working, and he was stumbling after Thomas blindly, doing his best to keep his balance. The dust wasn’t anywhere near him, but each breath was becoming harder and harder to take. Thomas picked him up. Alexander was dead weight. A leaf, about to be blown away. He curled up as much as he could. He could feel Thomas’ quick breathing too. People. Sounds. 

The explosion.

That smell of ash that lingered.

The burned forest in the games.

Alexander held onto Thomas tighter, blinking his eyes open.

_Alexander Hamilton. Fifteen. Third. Spring. It was Spring._

“Spring,” Alexander murmured, taking a few more breaths.

Thomas nodded, not responding. His eyes were beginning to glaze over, his feet beginning to stumble.

“Name.”

A nod.

“Age?”

Sixteenth.

“Month.”

“May. May third.”

 _It’s been a month._

So much had changed in a month.

“Let me down,” Alexander said, looking for the splash of red and gold that signalled Aaron Burr. He finally found the suit, Burr continuing through the crowd, a little further away. He felt his feet touch the ground, and he took Thomas’ hand, looking back at him.

“Do you think you can make it through everybody?” Alexander asked.

Another explosion. It was probably rebels who had decided to attack the same day of the rally. It was a perfect opportunity, all the doors to the castle open. King George was an idiot for holding the rally in the first place.

Thomas nodded, but Alexander could tell he was lying.

“Okay, follow me,” Alexander said, pulling Thomas to the side of the room, letting the steady flow of people pass by. They had lost Burr, but Alexander was sure that he could figure _something_ out. Alexander sighed, letting Thomas cling to his hand in the small bubble of space that they had. 

Alexander remembered bits of the map, but it wasn’t enough. Which room were they in? Which way were they supposed to go? Alexander would be able to lead them if it was from the entrance they had originally planned for, but Alexander had no idea what this room was.

Ben would know.

Of course Ben would know. He would’ve memorized the entire map the moment he saw it.

Maria would know too, she was good at layouts and remembering spaces. Angelica would’ve memorized it. Her sister’s life was on the line. Alexander was such an idiot, he should’ve done something. They were going to die. Eliza was going to die. None of it was working out.

Alexander chewed on his lip, desperate to do something. He felt useless all over again.

“I’m okay,” Thomas said after a little bit. The clamor had quieted down until it was a soft murmur, everyone looking around, trying to figure out what to do. 

An explosion went off above them, and the screaming started all over again.

Alexander rubbed his temples.

“Burr went that way, right?” Thomas asked, nodding his chin in the direction of another hallway. It was guarded by a single redcoat, who was trying to calm people down. 

Alexander nodded.

“Okay. Stay calm,” Thomas murmured, beginning to walk over to the hallway, pushing through the people. He looked confident, and Alexander knew it was the same mask Thomas had been wearing when they were in Thirteen. He could feel Thomas’ hand trembling slightly, grasping Alexander just a little too tight.

They were about to slip past the guard, when she turned around, eyes narrowing. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

“Bathroom?” Thomas supplied. “Would you like to accompany me?”

Alexander groaned, frustrated. She was responsible too. Part of the reason so many had died. He reached into his suit and threw a knife, aiming for her side. It penetrated her uniform, but not enough. She opened her mouth to yelled, and Alexander pulled her aside, stabbing a knife through all the layers. She slumped into his arms, and Alexander dragged her a little outside the room before letting her go. 

He pulled the knife back out, staring at the blood across the blade.

“Alexander, what the fuck?” Thomas whispered sharply.

Alexander didn’t move. The blood hadn’t stained her outfit, and it looked like she was just sleeping. Alexander ran his finger over the blood, the red a sharp contrast to the green he was wearing. 

She was dead. She wasn’t asleep; she was never waking up. He’d done what he thought he’d never do. He’d killed someone.

“You didn’t need to stab her. I could’ve gotten us-”

“She was part of the reason-”

“Killing her isn’t going to _do_ anything, Alexander!” Thomas exclaimed, keeping his voice a whisper.

“She’s not on our side. Besides, the rebels aren’t-”

“Screw the rebels! _You_ weren’t on my side in the arena; I didn’t stab you.”

“We were all on the same side in the arena,” Alexander argued. “You’re making a false equivalence.”

“You just killed a person, Alexander.”

Alexander stuffed the knife back into his belt, taking Thomas’ hand again. “It’s done. We can argue about this when people’s lives aren’t hanging in the balance.”

“We are arguing about people’s lives,” Thomas muttered, following Alexander.

“They’re not real people,” Alexander shot back. “They had no problem watching us die for _entertainment._ ”

Thomas groaned. “So what, that just lets us kill them? We’re just as bad then.”

“No we’re not. We’re saving lives-”

“We could’ve done it without killing her,” Thomas grumbled. “You can’t just decide who deserves to live.”

“Thomas, I love your voice, but could you shut up just this once? I promise we’ll talk about it later.”

“What if there isn’t a later?”

“Then we can talk about it while I’m bleeding out, yeah? Good,” Alexander snapped.

Thomas sighed.

“I love you.”

“I know,” Alexander responded, gently pulling Thomas closer. He kissed Thomas’ hand, lacing their fingers together. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Thomas responded. “Me too.”

They had been wandering the hallways during the course of the entire argument, and every hallway was decorated lavishly. Opulent and lavish mirrors dotted the halls. King George was probably obsessed with looking at himself. Everyone in the Capitol probably was.

“I’ll only kill when necessary. Deal?”

Thomas hesitated for a second. “Define what you mean by ‘necessary.’”

“We’re getting attacked and we can’t get out of the situation by just injuring the attacker,” Alexander said, taking a turn randomly. More mirrors.

“Fine,” Thomas said. “Deal. Where the fuck are we going?”

Alexander had hoped to find Burr so that they’d get led in the right direction, but it was pretty obvious that they had lost Burr. Alexander sighed, the explosions and fighting outside seeping through the walls, only a wisp of the real noise reaching their ears.

“Stairs? Holding cells are supposed to be on the floor underneath us,” Alexander said.

Thomas nodded, beginning to look around. 

After another two hallways, Thomas pulled Alexander towards the corner of the room. There was a spiral staircase, twirling down to the lower floor. Alexander began down the stairs, letting go of Thomas’ hand so that it would be easier for them to balance. Thomas followed close behind Alexander, one hand on the golden railing. At the bottom, there was another hallway. 

Alexander groaned.

It was less decorated than the top, but most of it was still obviously expensive. It was more modern than the main floor corridors. Alexander walked to one of the doors, grinning when he saw a label. 

“Weapons development,” Alexander said. “Guess they moved it here after blowing Thirteen.”

“Yeah, we learned that in history. Entire ‘the human race sucks, cause freedom is an impossible ideal. Thank the Capitol! Fuck District 13,’ talk,” Thomas said, staring at the label a little longer.

Alexander looked up at him.

“Wasn’t weapons development on our map?” Thomas asked.

Alexander nodded, everything suddenly clicking. Weapons development was the big room on the floor plans, a few hallways from the holding cells. “Yes! I know where we need to go.”

He took Thomas’ hand again, beginning to dash through the hallways. He finally found the cells, a row of doors that extended down a long hallway. The doors were plain, only containing a name, one for each door. There was a red light on the occupied ones, and the light was off on all the others. Alexander let go of Thomas, beginning to read the names on one side of the hallway. Thomas took the other.

After a few seconds of looking, Alexander noticed a slightly ajar door further down the hallway. He ran over, reading the name. 

_Theodosia Prevost_

“Burr’s already been here,” Alexander called.

He began reading the labels on the cells to the side. 

“Found Washington! And Eliza!”

Alexander was about to open the door, his fingers already curling around the card, when his eyes drifted to the door on the left. The red light was on. Someone was in there. He bit his lip as he read the name.

_Benjamin Franklin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wouldn't kill my fave (or would i)
> 
> #still crying about that one time i killed lafayette
> 
> ive been in a bad mood for a while so i'd really appreciate any kind words, honestly


	34. Hamilton's Son Said the Second National Bank was Unconstitutional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is it a bad thing that i fucking love to research andrew jackson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOBODY SAID FRESHMAN YEAR WAS GOING TO BE LIKE THIS
> 
> I AM DEAD
> 
> WHAT EVEN IS HIGH SCHOOL

“Thomas!” Alexander called.

Thomas was already running over. “What is it?”

_Ben was alive._

“Ben is alive,” Alexander said, running his fingers over the label on the door. He looked up at Thomas, who was reading the label slowly. “We have to get him out.”

“Something doesn’t make sense here,” Thomas said. 

“I’m opening the door,” Alexander said, waving the card against the scanner. There had always been the chance that Ben was still alive. Alexander just never expected it to actually go his way. There was a smile on his face as the door clicked open. Thomas just looked hesitant. 

Alexander pushed the door open, walking over to the body on the floor. Ben didn’t look good. 

Thomas waited by the door, holding onto one of his own knives with a white-knuckle grip. He was tapping his foot, pacing a little by the door. The shadow of his moving body was cast into the cell. Alexander got down on a knee, turning the body over.

It was definitely Ben. The face was bloody the nose was out of shape, but the tan skin, the freckles, the eyes, the hair- it was definitely Ben. Alexander ran his fingers over one of Ben’s cheekbones, carefully picking him up. 

Ben was limp, but his head rolled and he made a soft groaning noise.

“Thomas, he’s alive,” Alexander said. 

Thomas’ eyes finally landed on Ben, and he pressed two fingers to the side of Ben’s neck. “Barely alive, darling,” he said softly. He took a breath. “He’s not going to make it out. Especially if we have to carry him the entire time.”

“No, but there’s probably a medbay in the Capitol crafts! We can still save him,” Alexander said. “I have to save him. What about Laf, Thomas? What about every time Ben has saved our lives?”

Thomas sighed, running a few fingers through the top of Alexander’s hair. Alexander’s braid was already falling out from earlier, and Thomas’ fingers moved a few of the hairs back into place. Alexander’s arms already burned with the effort of carrying Ben. It was going to be difficult to sneak out while carrying Ben while an entire battle between the rebels and the Capitol was going on outside. They couldn’t hear the explosions anymore, but Alexander felt the ground vibrating every now and then, and he knew exactly what was going on outside. 

“I’m going to check on Washington and Eliza,” Thomas said. “We can decide after we see what condition they’re in.”

Alexander nodded, and Thomas stepped away. Alexander put Ben down for a second, pressing his fingers to the same place on Ben’s neck that Thomas had. A pulse danced under Alexander’s fingers, uneven and too slow. Alexander sighed, using his thumb to pull back one of Ben’s eyelids. Ben’s pupils constricted, after a slight delay. He was still alive, but Thomas was right. 

Ben was barely holding on. 

Thomas walked out carrying Washington, in a similar groggy state. Washington was mumbling pieces of words, and his breathing caused his chest to move up and down. Alexander looked down at Ben, who was scarcely breathing. Washington was definitely in a better state. Alexander went to get Eliza, whose eyes blinked open and focused on Alexander as soon as he picked her up. There was a soft smile on her lips.

“Hi.” she croaked. Her voice had barely any force, only a rough hum with a tint of happiness.

Alexander smiled. “Hi.”

She closed her eyes again, curling up a little bit. She was taller and heavier than Ben, and it was already getting hard to lift her. 

“How many people can you carry?” Alexander asked, turning to Thomas. “All I can manage is Ben.”

“You mean Eliza,” Thomas murmured. “We’re here for Washington and Eliza. We’re not leaving them behind.”

“But Ben-”

“Ben’s not going to make it, Alexander. Even if we get him onto the Capitol ship,” Thomas said, slowly, putting Washington down.

Alexander shook his head. “I’ll take Eliza, but I need you to carry Washington and Ben.”

“Alexander, I’m not going to be able to fight if I take Washington and Ben,” Thomas said. 

“We can sneak out through the back. Like the plan.”

“While carrying two hostages?” Thomas asked. “That isn’t going to work.”

Thomas was right. They were hoping that the others would at least be able to walk. Carrying them would make it harder than they had anticipated.

“Then leave Washington behind. We need to take Ben,” Alexander tried. 

“Washington is my friend, Alexander,” Thomas said.

“Yeah, only because he was using you so that he wouldn’t get killed,” Alexander said bitterly.

“You’re the one that said we’re all on the same side, why aren’t we on the same side here?” Thomas asked. 

“Cause Ben helped us out of the arena in the first place,” Alexander said.

“Yeah, and we’re the reason that Washington couldn’t make it out,” Thomas said. “We have to get him out.”

“Ben-”

“Ben is going to _die,_!” Thomas yelled. His voice echoed across the empty hallway.

Alexander stepped back, his lip quivering. He wiped at his eyes. He knew that Ben was going to die. It was obvious. Ben could barely keep his heart beating. Alexander just didn’t want Ben to die _here,_ the basement of the Capitol palace. It wasn’t fair to Ben or anything he had done.

Alexander sighed.

He had thought that Ben was dead before. That was false. Maybe the the thought that Ben was going to die was another falsehood. Maybe Ben had a chance, and Alexander and Thomas were about to throw that chance away. 

“There’s a chance,” Alexander whispered. “He deserves to live.”

“Alexander, it doesn’t always work out. You, of all people, should know that,” Thomas murmured, his eyes looking over Alexander softly. He gently ran a finger down the side of Alexander’s face, wiping a tear away before it even reached Alexander’s cheek. 

Alexander looked up at Thomas, his eyes pleading.

“You’re going to get me killed,” Thomas muttered, picking up both Ben and Washington. “You take Eliza. Let’s blow this place.”

Alexander nodded, moving forward and wrapping his arms around Thomas’ waist. He smiled, burying his face in Thomas’ chest.. “Don’t die.”

Thomas pulled Alexander close, hugging him back. He pressed a soft kiss to Alexander’s forehead. “If you insist, darling,” he drawled, a playful hint to the voice. It made Alexander chuckle. There was nothing playful about their current situation, and that fact hung in the air heavily. 

Alexander smiled up at Thomas, pressing a quick kiss to Thomas’ jaw. “Thank you. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Alexander picked up Eliza, holding her close. Thomas carefully threw Washington over his shoulder, picking up Ben next. They began to speed walk down the hallway, focusing on the people that they were carrying. 

They found the stairs from their plans. Alexander slowly walked up, Thomas following behind. They stopped to rest right at the top of the stairs, taking a few breaths. Eliza and Washington were stirring slightly, but Eliza had been the only one to open her eyes and say something. 

Alexander leaned against the wall, looking up at Thomas. Thomas nodded to show that he was ready, and Alexander nodded back, and they were walking again.

The back rooms of the palace were a lot different from the first few rooms they had been in. It was still luxurious and lavish and each room probably costed more than everything in the outer districts combined, but it was less gold and more artwork. There seemed to be peacocks lining parts of the walls, and there were even chairs that were peacock-shaped. 

Imposing figures, standing next to desks overflowing with paper and books. Someone in a boat rowing through an icy river. A picture of a group of people sitting under a chandelier, seeming to argue about something. The paintings looked old. The room felt like it was a room to be quiet in. Alexander stared at the paintings, walking by slowly.

“It’s a museum,” Thomas whispered.

Alexander nodded, looking at the paintings. “Didn’t know the King was into art.”

“King’s not into art, he’s into peacocks. This isn’t just an art museum. That painting over there is the signing of the Declaration of Independence,” Thomas said. “I think I mentioned that to you?”

“You did, at the parade,” Alexander murmured. “We didn’t really have history lessons.”

“It’s weird to see their faces,” Thomas said, stopping and looking at one of the paintings. His eyes traveled over the entire thing, scrutinizing. He was leaned in slightly, as if he was trying to get closer. “I mean, all they were doing was replacing a failing system of government with another failing system of government. It really shouldn’t mean much.”

“You seem interested,” Alexander said. “Might mean a lot to you.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” Thomas asked.

Alexander did his best to shrug, shoulders slumping under the weight of Eliza. “There’s a lot weirder things to like than history. Besides, your debating is better because of it.”

Thomas smiled down at Alexander. “Ya know, I’m going to enjoy arguing with you when all of this shit is over and we have to make a new government.”

“It’s on,” Alexander said, chuckling. “I would be shaking your hand right now.”

“I would be shaking back,” Thomas said. “I’d also kiss your forehead and pull you into my side, since you seem to like that.”

Alexander chuckled. “As soon as we get out.”

Thomas nodded, stepping away from the painting. “Only a few more rooms, right?”

“Yeah.”

“As you said, let’s get the hell out of here,” Thomas said, beginning to walk.

“I would be taking your hand,” Alexander said.

“I’d squeeze it.”

“I’d squeeze back,” Alexander responded. He hesitated for a second, looking at Thomas with a soft smile. “I’d say ‘I love you.’”

“Me too,” Thomas murmured. There was a pause in the conversation, their steps falling in tandem on the floor.

“I’d lean in.” Alexander was still looking ahead, eyes determined and focusing on his surroundings. 

Thomas was just focusing on Alexander.

“I’d-”

Alexander’s eyes flashed, and he suddenly ducked to the side. Thomas followed, pressing himself against the wall as much as possible. Alexander was focusing on a spot of red in the distance, slowly moving through the room.

There he was. The person who had been responsible for it all. Alexander felt himself leaning forward, his eyes trained on the person in the golden crown. Thomas was already pulling on Alexander’s shirt, trying to get him to go the other way. Alexander looked up at him.  
“He’s _right_ there.”

Thomas shook his head. 

“Right there, Thomas. I have a knife. We can end it,” Alexander protested.

“No,” Thomas whispered. “Leave it to the rebels.”

There was silence for a few seconds, and Thomas was staring at Alexander, pleading with his eyes. Alexander looked back towards King George. There were too many redcoats to take out alone, and there was no way that Alexander would be able to take them all on by himself, and then manage to get all the hostages out as well. Alexander sighed, looking back to Thomas and giving him a nod. There was nothing that they could do.

Thomas turned and began inching back, the main focus being to get away from the redcoats. Alexander followed him, keeping his breathing steady and working on getting out as quickly as possible. 

A blast flew right over Alexander’s shoulder, and he yelped.

They’d already seen them.

Fuck.

“Run!” Thomas yelled.

_I already am, you fucktard._

Alexander did his best to match Thomas’ pace, both of them slow, sluggish, and exhausted. The adrenaline was barely keeping them going. Alexander’s muscles ached, and every movement took more effort than the last. Thomas turned after a few rooms, managing to find the only closet that seemed to exist in the whole area. He probably memorized it on the floor plans. Alexander ducked in after him. Thomas put down Ben and Washington, collapsing to the ground. Alexander gently laid Eliza down, kneeling down next to everyone else.

They were still alive. That’s what mattered for now.

“We’re alive,” Alexander murmured.

“They’re looking for us now,” Thomas replied.

Alexander sighed. They were nowhere near close to out of this entire mess.

“Thomas,” Alexander said.

“Yeah?”

Alexander reached forward, taking Thomas’ hand.

Thomas looked back at him, eyebrowed furrowed. Alexander could only see the outline of his face in the low light. It took a second for Thomas to catch on, and he squeezed Alexander’s hand softly.

Alexander squeezed back. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Alexander,” Thomas murmured.

Alexander leaned in, letting his eyes slip shut.

“This is the worst time.” 

Maybe it was. They were being chased by a bunch of redcoats, hiding in an obvious location, dealing with three hostages. There was no way that it was going to go well.

Alexander was about to open his eyes, but he suddenly felt Thomas’ lips on his.

Maybe they weren’t going to survive. Alexander was still scared, scared of losing someone else that he loved. But damn if he wasn’t going to live while he still could. Thomas was something to fight for, and Alexander was as sure as hell going to fight for him, until the very end.

Alexander melted into the kiss, a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We were supposed to analyze the Hunger Games and it was the easiest fucking assignment for me honestly
> 
> sorry if this chapter is shit


	35. The Original Name of the Planet Uranus was the Georgium Sidus, in Honor of KGIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Again!! AND THIS FIC WILL GET AN ENDING SO HELP ME GOD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> usual excuses for this being late.   
> it's a short chapter, and I'll add it to the 36 and make 36 longer instead of keeping this here
> 
> this is just so that everyone gets the notification

Alexander was kissing Thomas.

Thomas was not a good kisser.

Not that it mattered. Alexander was enjoying every little bit of it. He shifted closer to Thomas, resting a hand on Thomas’ waist. Thomas broke away first, smiling against Alexander’s lips.

“That was nice,” he whispered.

Alexander chuckled, pressing another kiss to Thomas’ lips. “What’re we supposed to do now?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Thomas whispered. He leaned back, pressing his ear against the door. Alexander crawled forward and did the same. The footsteps seemed farther away than before. 

“I think they might be gone,” Alexander whispered, standing up. He placed his hand on the doorknob, opening the door a crack. The explosions were still going on outside, Alexander could hear them, and he could feel the vibrations from the shock every now and then.

Thomas was peering through the crack in the door, his head above Alexander’s.

“I think the rebels are winning.” Thomas looked down at Alexander. “There’s more of them coming in.”

Alexander focused on the scene outside. Thomas was right: there was another bunch of hovercrafts coming in. They weren’t like the rest of the crafts, either: It was the hovercrafts from District 3, the ones that Angelica’s father had been working on.

All that Thomas and Alexander had to worry about was getting out of the palace in one piece, which would be hard now that the redcoats were patrolling the area. This was right where King George was. It wasn’t going to be easy.

The rebels were probably going to win, though. It was almost over. 

“We could wait until the rebels seize the Capitol,” Alexander said. 

“We’re not exactly friends of the rebels, darling. Besides, the redcoats would probably find us by then.” Thomas closed the door, leaning against the closet and groaning. “Which way would we be going anyway? We have no idea exactly where the redcoats are.”

Alexander sighed. There was really nothing that they could do. Their disguises were useless, since they were carrying the hostages and it was easy to identify them with. 

Alexander looked up at Thomas. “We have to leave them behind. We can get them back after the rebels take the Capitol.”

Thomas nodded, almost impossible to see in the sliver of light. “We can steal two of their uniforms.”

Alexander leaned up to kiss Thomas’ cheek. “Let’s get going, then.”

Thomas took a pair of knives from Alexander. Protection for what was next. It was blasting through to the finish, finally getting where they needed to get. Alexander, of course, felt horrible about leaving the hostages behind, but it was their best chance. He looked at them a final time.

_I’ll come back, I promise._

“Alexander, are you ready?”

“Ready,” Alexander said. “Let’s get this party started.”

Thomas kissed him another time, and it felt nice to know that yes, kissing was a thing they could do.now. The thing with the kisses was that like always, the future was uncertain. Each kiss could be their last, and each kiss might leave one of them wishing they had kissed more. He was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

“If we keep doing this, we’re never going to bust out,” Alexander murmured. 

Thomas pulled away. “Right, then. On three.”

There was a pause. Neither of them had started the countdown. Alexander wasn’t sure if it was him or Thomas that said the first number, starting the entire thing.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!” They both said, busting out of the door. There were no guards in the room. Alexander instantly started charging to the next room, Thomas right beside him. 

There they were. A group of four redcoats. More than expected, but at this point, all the training had led up to this moment and there was no stopping. Alexander barreled into one of them, using the element of surprise. The redcoat fell to the ground, knocked over by Alexander. She started reaching for her blaster, but Alexander got there first, wrenching it out of the holster and shooting another redcoat that was charging for him before shooting the one that he tackled. Perfect.

Meanwhile, Thomas had gone for the more traditional fighting approach. The first he did was aim to get the blaster away from the redcoat he was fighting. He managed to kick it before the redcoat brought it up or had a good grip on it. He took a punch before punching back, getting a few hits in before turning to the other redcoat. Even if he had trained for this, it was hard. He was still a now-malnourished child. He dived for the blaster, shooting one of the redcoats. Alexander shot the other one that was on Thomas.

“Good aim,” Thomas said.

“He was literally five feet away,” Alexander replied, he looked back at the redcoats, trying to decide which clothes to steal. “None of them look my size.”

“Don’t think they carry these in a kid’s small,” Thomas said, chuckling.

Alexander flipped him off, deciding to just use the clothes of the redcoat he tackled. It would no doubt hang off weirdly and be a hindrance, but there wasn’t much else he could do right now. They needed to escape more than they needed to fight.

Thomas was already stripping one of the other redcoats. They were quick, into the disguise as fast as possible, disposing the stunned bodies at the side of the room. He shoves the blaster into the holster, letting the long red fabric of the coat drape over it. The uniform, despite being entirely the wrong size, was still comfortable. Better than the Capitol shit they were wearing before. 

Thomas uses his old clothes to wipe his makeup off. There are still a few golden smears on his face, loose sparkles in his hair. He gestures for Alexander to come closer, before doing the same for Alexander.

He reached for Alexander’s hair, gently undoing the braid and shaking the ribbons clear. “I’ll rebraid that for you when we’re out, darling.”

Alexander nodded, running his fingers through his hair a little to straighten it out. “You ready?”

Thomas nodded. This was their chance. He began leading them back the way they came, sticking to beelining across rooms to get back on the path out of the building. They were so close to the end. So close to getting everything they needed. The rebels almost had the palace. Thomas and Alexander had each other.

At some point of running through the rooms together, Thomas’ hand had found Alexander’s. They were clasped together, the fingers laced through each other. It was reassuring, having someone there. Knowing that there was someone there for him. 

His grip tightened.

The pace increased. 

They were almost out of the building, so close to the exit, the end of it all. All the fighting, all the sadness, it was almost over. The final room they needed to go in was the entrance to the balcony, and from the balcony, it was an easy drop to where they needed to be to get picked up. One short climb, and they’d be where they needed to be.

Alexander pushed open the door, determination on his face. Instead of an abandoned balcony, there was a group of guards, and in the middle, a face that Alexander had seen so many times on the television screens. There was a smile on the man’s face, his white hair brushed back, and a crown perched on top of it all. 

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE FINAL BATTLE OML HWHOIHLJHDVJHSV SO. FUCKING. CLOSE.


	36. Thomas Jefferson's Wanted his Funeral to be Quiet and Simple. He got his Wish.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was also rainy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100k WORDS!!!! YESSSSSSS IM SO ALIVE RIGHT NOW

King George looked down at the two of them.

It really wasn’t fair how tall he was. His form seemed to engulf the entire area, and the striking red and the giant cape just seemed to make him take up more space. It was terrifying.

Alexander’s grip on his blaster tightened.

“Saw your friends come through here,” the king hummed. “Figured you'd follow.”

Thomas stepped forward. “What did you do with them?” he asked.

“Doesn't matter, you’ll be dead soon,” the king replied. He made a giggling noise that Alexander absolutely hated. “Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson. I know exactly what I need to do with you.” He floated over to them. There were few other ways to describe how he walked. Regal. “Everyone thinks you escaped. I’d love to be the one to prove them wrong. You can’t escape the crown. No matter what you do. This revolution? It’s for nothing. It’s just going to be the same all over again. All governments end up this way.”

“They don’t have to,” Alexander said.

Thomas shot him a look, as if to say _really, Alexander? Is this the time?_

Of course it was the time. The king was never going to take the revolution seriously if Alexander dropped to his knees and started groveling in front of him. This was what they needed. One of the problems that defined Alexander was the fact that he rarely thought before he acted. He was lead by his emotions, and they were at the helm of almost all of his decisions. He supposed that King George had never really been stood up to before. A grin spread across Alexander’s lips. 

“You know what, King George?” Alexander asked. He held up a middle finger. “Fuck you.”

There was a shock for a second, everyone staring at the teenager that had just flipped off the king. The redcoats were still deciding what to do, looking between themselves and the king with unsure looks. Alexander could see a hint of a smile on one of their lips. Whether it was because they were amused or because they wanted to do the same was unclear.

The king lunged towards Alexander, and Alexander easily stepped out of the way. The king was untrained, despite being tall as fuck. He just ended up stumbling a bit. “Guards!” he yelled.

That’s when the blaster fire started. They were the red beams, the ones that would kill. Alexander ducked behind King George, using the exceptionally tall and decorated man as a shield. The blaster fire stopped for a second before the redcoats ran to get a clear shot of Alexander. 

Thomas was running as well, providing a great distraction. He managed a few shots, weaving through the redcoats that were most focused on Alexander, for the moment. 

Alexander, however, was completely focused on the king, who was now trying to duck and avoid the blaster fire as well. It was too close range for Alexander to use his blaster. He swiped one of his knives off of his belt, still under the loose-fitting redcoat uniform. He adjusted his grip as he dodged a few more blasts. It was going to be hard to find an opening and a good position if the redcoats were still aiming at him. Not that they could aim close to him if he stayed close to King George. They were too worried about hitting the mass of red velvet in front of Alexander that the shots were only at his extremities, and he only needed to dodge a few of them. 

Alexander dodged another one, moving closer to the king.

“Thomas, love!”

“I’m already on it,” Thomas said, pistolbutting a redcoat and kicking him off the balcony. 

As the number of redcoats receded, Alexander started to get more daring, finally throwing the first knife. The king made a high screaming noise before ducking to the side. The knife went soaring where he was standing a second ago, clattering to the ground. Alexander cursed to himself and picked up another one, beginning to run at him again. 

The king was now only concerned with running out of the way of Alexander, since it was clear that Alexander was not the least bit intimidated by him. If it had been a fistfight, Alexander would’ve lost. Thankfully, he had his knives, and he had the upper hand.

The king ran for a redcoat. “Give me your blaster!”

The redcoat handed it over, and now the king was aiming at Alexander. 

Shit. 

Since the king didn’t have to worry about hitting himself, he was aiming directly for Alexander and firing several shots. It turned out he was a terrible shot, anyway. Alexander supposed they didn’t teach how to handle blasters wherever they thought King George to be such a fucking dick.

“Fuck!” Thomas screamed.

Now that King was firing at Alexander, everyone focused on the greater threat: Thomas. He was already on the floor. There were only two more redcoats. One had shot him in the leg, and it did not look good. Alexander swore. 

Thomas managed to fire another blast at one of the redcoats, and a knife from Alexander stopped the other one. Thomas was still on the ground, whimpering slightly from the pain. 

That second that Alexander had moved his attention to Thomas was the second that ruined it all for the both of them. The king’s blaster was no longer pointed at Alexander, instead pointed to the easier target: Thomas.

Alexander froze.

“If you don’t want me to kill your _love_ ,” the king hummed. “Then I suggest you put the knife down.”

Alexander swallowed, nodding slowly. He dropped the knife, letting it clatter to the ground. 

“No, Alexander, what are you-”

“Shut up,” the king hummed. Thomas immediately did. King George was still scary. King George was still the person they had been trying to rally against this entire time. There was no sound for a few seconds except for the Thomas’ pained breathing and Alexander’s slightly panicked breathing. Alexander looked at Thomas for a second, before looking at King. 

“Let him go,” Alexander said, his voice shaking slightly. “You need- You need to let him go.”

There were another few seconds of tortured silence. All Alexander wanted to do was run over to Thomas and comfort him. He kept his eyes on King, watching a small smirk make its way onto his features. It was even more terrifying, and Alexander felt pinned in place, trying to focus on his own breathing to stay calm. He wasn’t even really sure it was working. He was terrified. This was it, the final battle. Both of them against King. Except, Thomas could barely stand, and Alexander was too scared to move. 

Alexander heard another whimper from Thomas, and he bit his lip. It was clear Thomas was trying to hold in how much it hurt. Every breath seemed to be forced, like he was forcing himself to hold each one for an extra second. 

“I have no reason to,” the king hummed.

“Take me instead,” Alexander said. “I’ll go with you- willingly. I don’t care. Just- just let him go, please.”

The king seemed to consider for a moment. “There’s no reason to. I could kill you both right now, and there’d be nothing you could do about it. Show off your bodies to the world, make an example out of you. That’s all I need to smash this rebellion.”

Alexander’s breathing didn’t improve. Shit. This was the end. His mind was racing, and he struggled to grasp onto something he could say that would make sense. 

_What’s your name?_

It was Thomas’ voice, soft in the memory. There was still a certain edge in it. It was right after John died. They were in the forest.

_You don’t have to say it out loud, just think it._

“No, no- the rebels-” Alexander stuttered, trying to find something to grasp onto. His words were too fast, his mind was even faster. He couldn’t even register was he was saying. “The rebels- don’t… they can’t- the rebels-”

_Alexander Hamilton._

He took a deep breath. He was good at arguing, good at debating- he could make it through if words were his weapon. The king was still staring at him, amused. It was infuriating, and he hated having those eyes on him. Alexander let his gaze flicker to Thomas.

_Fifteen._

The king looked over at Thomas again, a sadistic grin on his face.

“No, wait!” Alexander yelled. “You’d make them angry.”

King’s gaze snapped back to Alexander. “What?”

Fuck, there were the eyes again.

_It’s the third. Of May._

He focused on keeping himself from floating away. He’s in the present. He needs to stay in the present right now. He has something important to do. 

“I said you’d make them angry,” Alexander said. “If you… if you kill us. They’re going to come after you with more force.”

“Your deaths will scare them,” the king replied. 

“They’re already scared,” Alexander said. “They’re fighting, even though they’re scared.”

_Spring. New beginnings._

“Our deaths would be adding fuel to the fire. It's exactly what happened with John,” Alexander continued.Fight for love.

A breeze blew past him, his hair moving along with it. He let out a breath. 

_I'm on a balcony, staring King George in the eye and saving our asses._

There was a second where Alexander could see that the king was trying to decide what to do. It wouldn't be enough to say why he was wrong. He'd need to provide a better option.

“Take me instead,” Alexander repeated. “I'll go willingly. Broadcast my surrender on TV. They won't fight if the one kid with the balls to flip you off surrenders in front of everyone.”

Thomas was still staring at Alexander, shaking his head. Alexander took a deep breath. “Well?”

King George lowered the blaster. “Fine.”

“No, you can't,” Thomas said. “Alexander-”

The king ignored Thomas, lifting his blaster again to point at Alexander. “I'm letting your boyfriend go, but you have to stay with me.”

“Yes,” Alexander said.

“No!” Thomas yelled. His fingers were grasping for the blaster next to him. They curled around the handle. 

Alexander had a split second to realize that King had sent a blaster shot headed for him. He tried to move out of the way, but it hit him in the shoulder. He screamed, falling back. 

Thomas’ shot missed King by a few inches. He shot again, but King was already by Alexander. 

Alexander was fumbling with another knife he had pulled out. His good arm hurt too much to be any real use, but he had to try anyway. It was a failure. His stab had no power. 

The king wrenched the knife out of his hand. “You think you can win with this toothpick?”

Thomas had forced himself to his feet, and now he was working through the pain, limping over to Alexander, making noises of pain. He just needed to get in range for an easy shot. 

King The king stood up, chuckling. He strut over to Thomas. Thomas held a shaking hand up, trying to aim for the king. The pain was making it hard to do everything.

The king just laughed. “You're pathetic,” he hummed, kicking Thomas in the leg. Thomas almost doubled over, but the king had already grabbed the neckline of Thomas’ uniform, keeping him up. “Apologies, Alexander, but I think I have to go with my original plan.”

King sunk the blade into Thomas’ gut. 

Thomas’ eyes widened, a strangled noise escaping his lips. He looked towards Alexander. 

Alexander was already up, a blaster in his hands. He wasn't going to watch Thomas die. Not after John. Not after they had finally gotten together. Not when he'd finally-

It was too late, though, wasn't it? Too late to spend more moments pressed up against Thomas, hugging him in the middle of the night.

Too late to whisper _I love you_ a final time. 

The blaster was already aimed. 

He squeezed the trigger.

Thomas fell from the king’s hands. 

The king himself stumbled back, about to fall. Still not dead.

Alexander stormed over, determination on his face. He wasn’t going to let the king survive. Not after everything he'd done. He pulled out a knife, the adrenaline that was coursing through him managing to numb the pain in his shoulder.

“This… this is for John,” Alexander said, stabbing a knife into the body. He twisted the knife, running on pure rage. “And this is for Thomas.”

Alexander left the knife in the body, staring at it for a second. The wind continued to whip his hair around. The world seemed to stay the same. 

The rage subsided after a second, and Alexander turned to Thomas, running over and kneeling down at the body. Blood covered the entire middle of Thomas’ red coat, the color darkening into a maroon. 

There was a surrender in the background, white flags being raised by the Capitol. Just as he had known they would, the rebels had won. 

They were victorious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chuckles nervously* hey guys,,, wasn't this a happy chapter? They won!


	37. General Cornwallis Couldn't Attend the Ceremony of Surrender™ Because he was "Ill"

Of course, some victories are celebrated more than other victories. 

The rebels found him a few minutes later, trying to drag Thomas’ limp still-breathing body somewhere where he could be healed. He had a chance, Alexander _knew_ he had a chance. There was no way Thomas could be gone.

He led the rebels to the hostages, and finally to King George, blood spreading out in a large puddle around the body. Shackles had been placed on Alexander’s hands. _War crimes,_ they had said.

Alexander couldn’t find it in himself to protest.

They’d won. He’d won. Why wasn’t he happy?

Angelica had basically forced them to let him out. After all, the only reason he had been locked up in the first place was because Martha had wanted to make a public spectacle of killing the king. Everything was still a television show. Sometimes it felt like nothing had changed at all.

“Martha’s acting like she’s in charge,” Angelica murmured. “That won’t help anything. She’s an incompetent leader that resembles King George a little too much. What we need right now is an election, so that we can actually get someone that the people want in charge.”

Alexander had been lying down on the floor of his room. Angelica hadn’t asked any questions, just sitting down next to him and giving him a quick briefing of what was going on.

“Of course, it’s a little hectic to run a campaign right now,” Angelica murmured. “But if it does happen, I’ll be running.”

Alexander smiled a little. He wanted Angelica in charge. 

“I got a new arm,” she said, holding up a sleek rose-colored appendage. 

“It's badass,” Alexander said. 

Angelica chuckled softly. “Thanks, Alex. I know it’s kinda hard for you right now, but you’re always welcome to come live with us,” she murmured. “It’s a lot of people, but there’s a lot of space. Dad’s using the first few floors for refugees. Liz and I share a for, and Mar’s the floor above us. Laf usually just hangs around with us, anyway. It’s hard for him without Ben.”

Alexander sighed. Ben hadn’t made it. They were too late. 

“He loves you, though,” Angelica said. “Would you be okay with him visiting?”

Alexander nodded. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“I snuck you lunch,” Angelica said, setting down a tray of food. She also pulled out a thermos. “And I brought you macaroni for dinner. Or breakfast. Whatever you'd like.”

“Thank you.”

Angelica stood up, getting Alexander a couple of pills and some water. “Meds.”

Alexander took them, still under her watchful eye. 

“Good,” Angelica said, smiling. She kissed his forehead. “Want me to move you to the bed?”

Alexander shook his head. “Bed’s too lonely.”

“Alright,” Angelica murmured. “You sure you don't want to come?”

Alexander nodded. Thomas might get better. He needed to be here for that, not in District 3. He'd beat the odds before. It had to happen again. 

Angelica sighed. “I'll see you tomorrow, Alex. When can Laf come?”

“Whenever he wants,” Alexander said.

Angelica nodded. “Okay.” She poured him another glass of water, leaving it by him. “Anything else?”

Alexander shook his head. 

“Bye, love,” she hummed, closing the door as she walked out. Alexander was alone again. 

Laf popped in a few hours later, finding Alexander still in the floor. He picked Alexander up, plopping him on the bed before cuddling in next to him, pulling the blanket over both of them. They didn't say anything for a while, just hugging each other. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Alexander smiled softly, doing nothing more than holding on. Laf kissed Alexander’s forehead, relaxing against him. Laf just combed through Alexander’s hair.

“How's Thomas?”

“His wound got infected,” Alexander murmured. “They’re trying to heal him. It's supposed to be going well.”

Laf nodded. “Good.”

“I love you,” Alexander repeated.

“I love you too,” Laf murmured.

Alexander cuddled closer.

“Come stay with me,” Laf said softly. “It's just me. We’d be close to Angelica. We can steal a hovercraft and fly back for Thomas anytime.”

Alexander nodded. He was tired of being alone. “Okay.”

Laf handed him water and ate with Alexander before carrying him out and back to the hovercraft he'd arrived in. 

Another week passed. Thomas didn't wake up. There were too many injured people for everyone to get enough focus. Laf still made Alexander feel alright. Angelica visited often. Alexander held Laf whenever he cried, gently soothing him and wiping tears away. It was hard for all of them. 

Laf and Alexander began the task of painting their floor of the building. Laf had gone for a bright yellow, and Alexander for a deep purple. 

“This is going to look horrible,” Laf said, looking at their clashing color selection. 

Alexander laughed. “Let's do it.”

It didn't look horrible. Most of the rooms were painted purple, and Laf painted a sun in with yellow, rays extending outward. Alexander loved it. 

He fell asleep in bed next to Laf again. Things were looking up, for once. 

Angelica visited the next day, grinning at the rooms. “I love it,” she said. “Mar’s a painter. She'd love it too.” 

Alexander beamed, proud. 

“Anyway, our asshole of a leader Martha wants us to just blindly trust her for no reason. It doesn't make sense. What we need is representatives from all the districts to choose a leader who they actually believe in, just while we’re setting up the government. It's so much easier that way. The representatives can check the power of the leader we choose, and…”

She went off into a brilliant rant that Alexander absolutely loved. He wrote down most of her points and traveled up to her room the next day, handing her a pamphlet. “Publish it.”

She flipped through, grinning. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Alex said. “How's Eliza?”

“Doing well,” Angelica answered. “She's very grateful. I'm very grateful. You have no idea.”

“Wouldn't have gotten that far in the first place if it wasn't for you,” Alexander said, smiling. 

Angelica hugged him, chuckling. She picked up some chocolate from a cabinet, handing it to him. “Don't tell Peggy I gave you that.”

Alexander chuckled. “Thanks, Ange.”

“Alex.”

Alexander nodded, turning and heading back to his floor again. He opened the door, suddenly getting tackled by someone. His instincts snapped back into place, and his fist met a jaw. 

There was a noise of pain. 

“Damn, you can punch, darling,” Thomas groaned. 

Alexander looked up, meeting Thomas’ eyes. “Thomas?”

“I'm back,” Thomas muttered, rubbing where he was punched. 

Alexander barreled into him, hugging him tightly, burying his face into Thomas’ neck. “You asshole.”

Thomas groaned again. “Everything hurts.”

“Shut up,” Alexander muttered. He crashed his lips into Thomas’, holding him tightly. 

Thomas smiled and kissed back, falling back and pulling Alexander on top of him. Alexander somehow managed to keep kissing through the movement, staying close to Thomas. 

“Alex, darling, we have an audience,” Thomas hummed, gently breaking away. 

Alexander looked up to see Laf, who was awkwardly waving. He blushed, getting off of Thomas and helping him up. 

“Surprise,” Laf said, chuckling softly. 

Alexander ran to Laf, hugging him tightly. “Thank you,” he murmured, holding him close. 

“Thank Thomas for getting better,” Laf said. “I just broke him out and got him here.”

Alexander gave Laf a squeeze, kissing his cheek. “Thomas, join the hug.”

Thomas chuckled, getting up and hugging them both. He hesitated before leaning over and kissing Laf’s cheek. “Thanks,” he murmured.

_I forgive you._

“You guys better help me make Queen Angelica a thing,” Alexander murmured. 

“Didn't we talk about this? Having a queen is how we got into this situation in the first place. We need to set up a new-”

“She better be the executive head,” Alexander said, holding onto Thomas as Thomas picked him up and carried him to the couch. “I wrote a pamphlet.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, we need to set up a voting process. That's hard with everyone displaced, but Angelica pretty much figured a way around that.”

“One that doesn't give the power to Martha?”

“Hell yeah.”

Laf chuckled softly, heading upstairs to hang out with Angelica, leaving Thomas and Alexander to chatter and catch up a bit. 

Thomas ended up resting on top of Alexander, smiles on both of their faces. 

“Are you sure I'm not crushing you?”

“You were stabbed in the gut, I’m not going to lie on top of you-”

“Alright, alright.”

Thomas rested his head on Alexander’s chest. It felt far from over, but he could finally relax and let life rush over them for a little bit, no fighting or running or killing. Just the two of them, chilling on a couch. 

Maybe life wasn't perfect. Thomas still woke up screaming some nights, just clinging to Alexander. Alexander still slipped out of the real world every now and then, and Thomas would bring him back, neither of them making a big deal out of it. They had their problems, but they also had each other.

“Hey, Alexander.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And that was all they needed for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I can finally use the Angst with a Happy Ending tag :)
> 
> I can't believe it's over. (Am I done with this AU? Hell no. I have a ton of drabbles and a possible sequel coming up, keep your eyes peeled!)
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and support. They mean the world to me. 
> 
> If you want more Hunger Games AU, be sure to check out [They Say that Coal Turns to Diamonds](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11575053/chapters/26009073) and also all this beautiful fanart: [Laf and Alex](https://hamilton-angst.tumblr.com/post/163212932951/im-going-to-rant-now-um-ok-i-just-want-to), [The Mural of John](https://hamilton-angst.tumblr.com/post/163075224536/i-came-to-ur-fic-for-jamilton-but-now-im-actually?is_related_post=1), and [Alexander during the testing.](https://hamilton-angst.tumblr.com/post/160424429196/frillyscribles-hamilton-angst-fuck-i-am-in) I love all the work inspired by this, it makes me feel super warm inside when I see them :)
> 
> Anyhoo, I'd love to thank everyone who supported me while writing this. Thanks for everything. If you want to check out more of my stuff, I'd love it. Thank you. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! (Seriously, thanks so much.)  
> Yell at me on tumblr: @hamilton-angst  
> (I guarantee I'll yell back, I have no life.)


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